


Royal Duties

by SashaDistan



Series: The Best Circle of Hell [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Play, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Dimension Travel, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Evil, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Orgy, Original Character Death(s), Power Dynamics, Public Blow Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Sparring, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan
Summary: Kiorl is the right hand of the Devil, and sits on the left hand of the Prince of Hell, he is the third most powerful demon in the Inner Circle, and a cocky, confident, self-conceited son-of-a-bitch. But Kiorl's life isn't perfect, sharing the King's bed for political gain might be more trouble than it's worth, and apparently he has developed a conscience at some point in the last hundred years or so. Still, there's plenty of fun distractions to be had in the most favoured house on the hill.
Series: The Best Circle of Hell [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526900
Comments: 22
Kudos: 14





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Please read the tags. Violent on-screen torture and rape lies ahead. All of it for nothing other than for Kiorl to prove a point that he is the Most Evil Bastard in all of Hell. Brain-bleach may be required.  
> There is cute stuff to come after, and some cool world building.
> 
> Demons are evil, Kiorl more than most, there is no sugar coating that. You have been warned, you proceed under your own discretion.

Kiorl stood outside the entrance to Nassau’s apartments, and hesitated. It had been many years since he’d even bothered to announce his arrival in the Prince’s private rooms within the Palace, let alone knock on the door. But usually, Nassau was in his head before he’d even finished climbing the stairs, and Kiorl almost missed the flavour of his old friend in his mind.

_Here goes nothing._

Kiorl knocked, waited, knocked again, then pushed open the door. Nothing was immediately untoward, and Kiorl headed down the passage which lead to Nassau’s study, hoping that he would find the Prince had simply lost track of time in a book. The study was empty.

_No such fucking luck._

Wishing he had worn something more substantial than the embroidered linen tabard he’d drawn at random from his extensive wardrobe, Kiorl climbed the stairs, bypassing other rooms which had long since been closed off and left to gather dust, and went to Nassau’s bedchamber. The filigree doors showed a view of sunlight through trees, their branches heavy with blossom and birds, but the inner panels were closed, as they so often were these days, and gave him no clue of what might lay beyond. He knocked, even though he knew Nassau would have felt his arrival.

“Go away.”

“Nassau?” This brought forth no reaction and Kiorl flicked his ears unhappily. “Sire? Court is in session. Please come out. You are wanted.”

There was the distinctive sound of something large, heavy, and probably expensive, smashing into the other side of the door next to Kiorl’s head. Red seeped under the door at his feet, and Kiorl lamented the loss of the wine.

“Nassau...”

“GET OUT!”

Kiorl thrashed his tail and growled to himself.

_I’m not even fucking in there._

“Open the door.”

_NO._

“I’m coming in, so if you’re going to throw something at me, you’d better knock me out in one or I’ll break your fucking arm.”

The door swung open easily under his touch, which was as good as a blessing, because Kiorl knew he could never have entered if Nassau truly wanted him out. The usually neat and ordered bedchambers of the Prince of Hell were strewn with what anyone else might assume was the aftermath of a fight, but Kiorl knew the only thing Nassau was fighting were his memories. And his father.

“He always sends you.” Nassau stood in the centre of a ring of destruction, the floor cracked, a wall hanging ripped and dangling from only one corner, the crystal shards of the wine pitcher catching the light from the alcoves and throwing strange shapes across the floor.

“He didn’t send me.”

Nassau glared at him, his grey eyes roiling with a storm which was barely contained.

_I know better than to lie to you Nas._

“I came because your courtiers have gathered and you aren’t there.” Kiorl watched as Nassau’s shoulders slumped, defeated, his great bronze feathered wings spreading out behind him. He picked his way carefully across the floor, because sliced open paw pads would hurt and take a long time to heal, even for a demon of his strength, and took Nassau’s hand, tugging him gently towards the bed which was still, mercifully, free of debris. “You wanna talk about it?”

 _I was so close… dammit_. Nassau sighed heavily, and leant against Kiorl’s shoulder as he sat, folding himself into an impossibly small space. Without his aspect drawn about him, and without the hugeness of his wings, Nassau was still as slender and slight as he had been the day he’d come of age. Kiorl felt huge beside him.

“I went to see Father on the way to the Games Room. He gave me this.” Nassau held out a small, beautiful object in one hand, and Kiorl took it from him carefully.

“A reliquary?” Kiorl frowned at the little vessel, so like the many he kept in his room and about his person on trips Upstairs, used for collecting souls of mortals tricked, coerced, or straight up slaughtered into giving up on life and limb. He wondered if Nassau’s father had gone to the Hunt office to find one, or if it had been something he himself had left in the King’s bedchambers. Neither option was particularly appealing.

“He wants me to go Upstairs and ‘do my job’. As though I was any other Hunter!” Nassau offered him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“I am the Prince.” Nassau declared passionately, to absolutely no one.

“And that’s not why you don’t want to do it.” Kiorl glanced towards another pair of lattice work doors, set into the far wall of Nassau’s bedroom, and frowned. “It’s because of him, right?”

Nassau stared at the doors, turned to face Kiorl without seeing him, and buried his face in his hands as he burst into tears. Sometimes Kiorl wondered if being the only person Nassau ever cried in front of was a blessing or curse, but he simply wrapped his arms around his oldest friend, pulled the Prince into his lap, and made soothing, wordless noises until the shaking passed.

“I haven’t taken a soul since before the Ascension. And I don’t want to. I just… I can’t. Not now.”

“Shhhh… your father is just going to have to be disappointed – which ain’t nothing new – there are plenty of Hunters working. Maybe just take a trip Upstairs for the sake of appearances.”

Nassau glanced up at him with a soft frown, and Kiorl wiped away the Prince’s tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“And when did you get all smart and wise?”

“Hey, I am nearly as old as you are!” Kiorl glanced again at the latticework doors. “Nas… do you not think that it’s worse, keeping his stuff around?”

“Ki… no.” The expression Nassau wore was so pained, Kiorl wished hotly he could take the suggestion back. All the Prince had left of the man he loved were his clothes, his great double-bladed axe, and the stone bust which had been made after the Ascension and completed just before the day which should have been the happiest in Nassau’s life and had ended up being the worst. “It’s all I have. No one on his world would remember him now...”

“Forever he will live, whilst his name is spoken,” Kiorl intoned, “Forgive me Sire, I should not have asked.”

Kiorl inclined his head, but glanced up as Nassau tugged gently on his tail. The Prince arched an eyebrow at him.

“When was the last time you called me ‘Sire’ in private?”

“Probably never.” The panther smirked. “Come, let’s get to dressed and ready for court. There’ll be rumours otherwise.”

“There are always rumours.” _Demons are the worst gossips, and that naga you live with has got to be top of the heap too._ Nassau waved a hand at the mess he had made of his room, which began to tidy itself automatically. The dust, stone chippings, and broken glass swept themselves into a forlorn little heap in one corner, even as the wine evaporated away. Kiorl went to the Prince’s wardrobe and chose him a heavy wool kilt, and a finely embroidered jerkin, specially tailored to allow easy access for his wings. “You do not need to attend me, Kiorl.”

“Yeah, but I like to.”

He unpinned Nassau’s temper-rumpled garments, and smiled softly as the Prince stepped out of the cloth and kick it away with one foot. Naked, it was easier to ignore Nassau’s power, the aspect which he held around himself, the immense force of will which had allowed him to fight his brothers, regain his wings, and take the title of Prince and Heir of Hell. Naked, he was just Nassau, and Kiorl traced the muscles of his chest and abdomen as he hung the pleated fabric of the kilt around his hips, crouching to work the buckles and laces which would hold it closed. Kiorl stroked the soft skin below his navel, and tore himself away from the idea of his his friend being very nearly naked.

_I can feel that, you know._

_I know. Sorry._

_Another time, dear friend._

_Heck yes._ Kiorl smirked as Nassau turned, and he began to secure the buckles which closed the jerkin under each wing. “Tobias will be cooking for Summas, you should join us.”

“And afterwards you’ll slink back to father?” Nassau asked, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Kiorl wrapped an arm around his friend and pulled Nassau firmly up against his chest. He purred into his long hair.

“Afterwards we’ll go back to my room, you can tease me about the drapes and the ottoman seating, and I’ll rock your damn world.”

Nassau shivered pleasurably under his hands, and Kiorl smiled, tail winding around the Prince’s fire-marked forearm.

“But first, your courtiers are waiting. Come Highness. Let us go and be seen.”

Kiorl made a show of bowing low, and Nassau grinned and swept past him. His regal posture lasted all of ten paces, and then the winged-boy and the black panther leapt, chased, tumbled, and tussled their way to the Games room, just as they had all their lives. Kiorl straightened his tunic and smiled as they reached the door. It was good to be best friends with your Prince.

*

Cities were a marvel. Lone travellers in the dark had their appeal, but Kiorl delighted in the false sense of security modern cities gave to their inhabitants. He’d chosen the world at random, one of the many Earths where magic wasn’t present, and collected a portal token from the stack in the office. No one had been here collecting in a long while, and Kiorl could feel it….so many happy souls, ripe and ready for plucking.

It was twilight, the hour between the fading orange and pink lines of the sunset and the fall of proper dark, and Kiorl’s very favourite time of day. He could see perfectly in the dark, an ability devoured long ago as spoils of his first real fight with another demon, but ever since he’d cleaned up on the field after Nathaneal’s defeat in the war which had brought Nassau back to the throne, the ability to fade until he was as insubstantial as a shadow had become second favourite only to his natural talent of seduction. There was nothing quite like materializing three feet from one’s target before knocking them from their senses with lust. Kiorl picked the alley based on scent alone, dropped from a rooftop into a pool of shadow, and shut his eyes to mere slits as he waited.

He did not have to wait long.

A group… four, no five, people walking, weaving, slightly drunk, very happy, and making far too much noise. Kiorl wouldn’t have needed any of his fancy skills for them not to notice him as they passed, one still holding a drink, two others supporting a third who was singing or swearing, possibly both. Kiorl followed them on what was to be their last ever shortcut.

_I like that one._

_Oh, it’s going to be one of those evenings, is it?_ His inner voice asked.

 _It would be a shame to be greedy._ Kiorl smiled, teeth flashing, tracking the most attractive of the party as they walked. He was also the least obviously drunk, and there was something about his strong but skinny frame and the mess of auburn curls which Kiorl found enticing. _Sharing is always fun._

Kiorl made a quick, silent check of the reliquaries at his waist and, having established he had room for four souls, stepped from the shadow, became solid, and allowed three heartbeats of panic before he cast the cloak of seduction over the group. They stilled, each knocked from their panic by lust so thick it was practically visible, the group of three swaying gently, the drink of another falling to the ground with the splintering of glass to which no one reacted. Kiorl didn’t need a glamour to hide his true shape, lust did all the work for him, and as he approached the favourite of his targets, he was not imagining the thickening outline in the man’s trousers. It did not matter what the human’s usual preferences were, or that Kiorl was a long way from human, because the cloak of seduction was strong enough to bypass all those things and hardwire a reaction directly from the pleasure centre of his mind to his cock. Kiorl purred, took the human’s jaw between two clawed fingers, and kissed him deeply.

The others stared, and the rise of lust and jealously was palpable to Kiorl, rich like the scent of roasting meats from the kitchen back home. Kiorl stepped back and purred happily. The young man’s eyes followed him, and Kiorl could taste that he had him hooked.

He had a one of his selection of short knives, held horizontally in the sheath on his belt above his tail, but it seemed a shame to waste the materials in the alley, and as he approached the figure who had dropped the drink, he scooped up a curve of glass which matched the moon, and drew it carelessly across the human’s neck. Even as they bled, Kiorl moved the figure, tearing clothes here, repositioning just so, and dipped his fingers into the blood which had already begun to pool in the hollow of the clavicle, returning to the man he’d kissed, and painting it in a smear over his lips. His victims eyes lit up, but Kiorl returned quickly, holding the reliquary close to the bleeding figure’s lips, ready to collect the soul and they died. Job done, he turned to the other three figures, and smiled broadly.

The first he backhanded roughly across the mouth, reeling the cloak as he did, so by the time the boy was broken on his back, he was fully aware of the horrors which were being committed against him. Kiorl kissed him, not carefully, tearing his cheek and lip with his fangs as he did so, choking off the beginnings of a scream with a precise slash of the knife. He filled the reliquary and stoppered it closed before collecting yet more blood, and using it to intimately breach the body of the man who had been supported between his friends.

Kiorl screwed him with his fingers, more gently than he probably needed to be, and brought him to the point of ecstasy before he killed him. Human bones broke so easily. He took the final supporter, laid them on the body of the dead friend, and brought his favourite victim over with a finger hooked through his belt loops. He’d been lust lust drunk for long enough that he was eager, fumbling fingers finding Kiorl’s chest, dragging over fur and muscle, tugging with a needy whine at Kiorl’s belt. The panther purred as his victim dropped willingly to his knees, and adjusted the fold of his breech-cloth to expose himself. The young man didn’t need any extra lust to take him into his mouth, and he looked up at Kiorl with huge dark eyes.

_Well that’s kind of hot._

_He’s not as good as Jahke._

_No one’s as fucking good as Jahke. Not even Nassau. Kid’s giving it a damn good try._ Kiorl purred aloud. _Atta boy._

Kiorl wrapped his hand, too tightly, into the young man’s hair, clenched his jaw, and came in a rush, panting happily as his victim drank him in with lust-drunk adoration. He grinned in satisfaction, then turned the young man toward his drunk friend, ripping away enough clothing so that the mouth which had served him could be wrapped around another’s eager erection. He didn’t want to abandon a knife, so Kiorl took up the glass shard again, position it in the victim’s hand, and guided him as he used the improvised blade to half-disembowel the man who’s cock he was sucking.

He collected the last soul and admired his handiwork as he knelt behind his remaining live victim. Four was excellent work, by anyone’s standards, and Kiorl smiled with quiet pride.

“Such power,” he intoned softly, lips brushing the shell of the young man’s ear, “such skill and beauty to do the things you’ve done. Such pleasure, do you feel it? This is the best sex you’ve ever had.” Kiorl kissed the young man’s neck, even as he sucked the still hard cock of his friend. “You’re going to want this again-” he had his fingers wrapped around the hardness of his victim’s erection, stroking him through his clothes, “-it’s such a high, isn’t it? Ah… that’s right. You’re doing so well. Come for me now. Show me how much you appreciate what we’ve done.”

The living victim came in his clothes, an indelible source of shame he’d have to carry away from the scene with him, and Kiorl stood, melting back into a pool of shadow as he yanked back the cloak of seduction and watched the full horror wash over his last victim. He never wasted time trying to understand the screams and babbling incoherent cries, but wrinkled his nose as the young man vomited beer, bile, and Kiorl’s cum onto the ground between the last victims splayed legs. He stared at what had been done for ten heartbeats, which Kiorl knew was more than enough to be haunted forever by the images, then fled.

Kiorl held up his two brimming reliquaries to the light and smiled as the souls sloshed and mixed within them. The chances of the survivor killing to try and recreate the sensations Kiorl had given him were pretty high, and Kiorl was proud of himself. He retraced his steps, sticking to the shadows, unobserved as he made his way back to the place where he’d first arrived. He could have cast a glamour and strolled down the street, his powers hadn’t been diminished in the slightest by his scene, but glamours took effort, and Kiorl always preferred not to pretend.

He paused as he passed the shop, catching a fragment of his reflection as he dipped from one shadow to another, then looked beyond the glass and smiled broadly. He wasn’t a scavenger, but there were no rules saying he couldn’t bring presents back from Upstairs. The glass smashed under his fist, and Kiorl took the item, surprised by it’s weight, and tucked it under his arm as he arrived at the place where the world was thin. Kiorl gripped the portal stone hard in his fist, closed his eyes as it blazed into flame and followed the thread of familiar stars back home.

Kiorl never used any other than the West Gate, because he sat at the right hand of the King and the left hand of the Prince and outranked everybody else, and the guard on duty practically knelt as he stepped into the hot, dry breeze of the inner circle.

“Master Kiorl.”

“Are there messages from the Palace?” Kiorl tossed the bone chit to the guard, who caught it with their tail.

“No Sir, only from the Hunt office-”

“I don’t care. It’ll wait.” Kiorl barely waited the for guard to nod in understanding. “I’m going home.”

It was late in the afternoon in Hell, which made Kiorl smile, because he had not missed dinner, and he had seen the interesting collection of packages the house’s scavengers had brought back the previous day. Other demons made themselves scarce as Kiorl walked, or moved aside and bowed deeply as he passed. All Hunters were among the most senior demons in the Circle, and Kiorl knew less well travelled creatures would look upon his bloodied appearance and the full, glowing reliquary’s at his hip in awe. As he turned up the path through the ravine which lead towards Zinkara Rumah, a crow clicked at his from it’s perch.

“Huh?”

The bird hopped from foot to foot, beady eyes tracking the sloshing souls he had collected. Kiorl hissed in annoyance.

“Nas! If you wanna say something just fucking say it, would you?”

Instantly, Kiorl felt the familiar, sun-warm, ash-soft presence of his oldest friend in his mind.

_You had a good day…_

_Fuck yeah I did._

_Pride looks good on you._ Nassau’s mental voice sounded happy, and Kiorl wondered if he should head to the Palace instead. _A nice idea, but not today, thank you._

_What’s up Nas?_

_You know Tobias hates it when you bring souls back to the house…_

Kiorl folded his eyes back against his hair, running his claws through his blue streaked mohawk, remembering the shivery way their chef had been the last time he’d brought work home with him, which had exploded into a full on attack of shaking when Sitka had accidentally knocked a reliquary and some of the soul had spilled onto the long counter in the kitchen. It had taken a long time for Zai to calm his mate, and Kiorl had felt bad enough to find the empath a while afterwards and apologise. He sighed.

_Give them to the crow. He’ll take them in._

Kiorl did so, snapping at the crow to be careful with his cargo. He watched the bird go.

_You think I should change my hair?_

_I think you should stop decorating your room like a tent._ The Prince replied with a quiet, happy feeling. _Bye Ki._

Kiorl arrived in the kitchen to find his three newest housemates together in the kitchen, which in recent decades had by default, become their main room, because it was where Tobias practically lived, and where all the good smells emanated from. The little kitsune Jin-Ha was kneeling on a stool, reading from a book filled with pictograms Kiorl didn’t understand, whilst Jahke followed along, writing furiously to keep up. Tobias stood on the other side of the counter, cooking as they talked, dicing some kind of long, green allium into tiny rounds.

 _A century ago I wouldn’t have known what an allium fucking was…_ Kiorl thought ruefully.

“What are you cooking?”

“Char siu,” Tobias replied without looking up. “And you are not stepping another paw in here until you’ve washed.”

“Hey Kiorl, successful trip?” Jahke treated him to a broad, attractive smile as he looked up from his notes. “Jin-Ha is teaching us new Asian recipes. I’m acting as scribe.”

“Four souls,” Kiorl replied proudly, “And I got you a present.”

“Ooh!”

Jahke’s reaction was nothing if not delightfully predictable, and the pale faun slipped from his perch and skipped across the kitchen to where Kiorl stood, his long panelled loin cloth doing everything to highlight his fantastic figure and perfect, milk-white skin. Jahke beamed up at him, and Kiorl wondered if the ability to keep his wide eyed innocence had been another of Nassau’s gifts along with the delicate horns and hooves.

“What is it?”

Kiorl brought the large book out from under his arm with a flourish, and remembered to swivel his ears back before Jahke’s overexcited cry of joy.

“An atlas!” Jahke was already turning the heavy pages of the book, fingers tracing the shapes of continents he knew, and ones he didn’t. “Oh Ki! It’s beautiful, thank you!” as the boy reached to take the weight of the book, Kiorl snapped it shut with a smirk. “ _Kiorl…_ Oh, I see...” Jahke swayed his hips, then pressed a finger to Kiorl’s bare chest. His fingertips came away red. “And what is it you want?”

“Well if Tobias isn’t going to let me eat until after I’ve washed...”

“And how am I supposed to get this recipe down without him?” Tobias snapped from the stove, a heavy rounded stone in one hand, the other pinching a variety of red spices out into a shallow basin.

Kiorl grunted something in reply, because that really wasn’t his problem, and he smiled as Jahke wove their fingers together, already heading for the stairs. He heard Jin-Ha placating their chef.

“We can write a full translation later, my friend. Now we must grind the fennel and the chillies….”

Jahke stuck his head in at the door to his own bedroom as Kiorl proceeded to the bathroom and began to unbuckle the belts which held his knife and the various pockets of his garment. He knew Jahke would be letting his mate know where he was, what he was doing, and with whom. Sometimes he wondered why he’d thought it was a bad idea for Sitka to recruit, but Kiorl seriously doubted the horned scavenger had any idea the treasure he had been bringing home in the boy. Then Jahke was with him, closing the door softly, already naked, trailing his fingers in the blood soaked fur of Kiorl’s chest.

“So you had fun Upstairs?”

Kiorl groaned against his lips as Jahke deftly unhitched his remaining belt and began to unwind his loin cloth.

“But not _enough_ fun?” Jahke’s fingers pushed into the hard muscles of his abdomen. “You only have to ask Ki, you know I’ve always got time for you.”

It was testament to how well Jahke knew him, and understood what he liked, because he stepped back and used his bloodied fingers to draw delicate lines across his mouth, then his chest, then his thighs, anointing himself with the blood of Kiorl’s kills, just as Kiorl might have wanted to do. The deep red stood out darkly on his pale complexion, and Kiorl panted, his tail flicking in anticipation. Jahke stepped into the shower ahead of him, and Kiorl followed happily. The faun rubbed soft sand into his fur with his fingers, working over his muscles, and Kiorl let his head fall forwards, his usually fantastically styled hair hanging around his face, as the blood and grit of the world he’d visited washed away into the groove in the stone floor. He turned at Jahke’s unspoken suggestion and let the boy work over his back, hands smoothing down the short fur of his thighs, then his calves. Then Jahke wrapped a firm hand around the base of his tail, short fingernails digging in as he pulled along the length of solid muscle.

Kiorl purred.

From the state of the kitchen, there were a few hours until dinner, and Kiorl didn’t think Sitka would mind if he borrowed his mate. Kiorl moaned as Jahke began to stroke his cock. For all he cared right then, Sitka could happily join them.


	2. Chapter 2

Kiorl shouldered the door open without bothering to knock, and rolled his eyes at the sight which greeted him. Zai was naked and blissfully comatose, arms and tuft-tipped tail wrapped around an equally nude Tobias, his skin showing the pale pink marks of recently healed wounds. For a moment, Kiorl wondered if the punishment of being caught looking at Tobias naked would be worth it, then he scooped up a handful of cloth he assumed was one of Zai’s tabards, and threw it at him.

Zai was on his feet, over the bed, claws ready to slash at the perceived threat before he was even fully awake. Too many years of living feral Upstairs had left their mark on him, even though most other demons thought Zai remarkably powerful for a minor. More than once Kiorl had heard people question why he was not a member of Nassau’s court.

“Kiorl!”

“Why aren’t you up?”

“It’s my day off,” the grey-furred demon replied, glancing longingly back at the bed. Tobias had rolled over, and Kiorl smirked at the newly presented view. “Knock it off Ki. He won’t feed you if he catches you thinking like that.”

“Fucking empaths...” Kiorl muttered. “Gods dammit, why didn’t Nassau wake you too?”

“Again… it’s my day off.” Zai had dropped his fighting stance, stretched, and took a step back towards the bed. “Excuse me Ki- hey!”

“Special mission Zai.” Kiorl pushed the other demon forcefully towards his wardrobe. “I’m going to need you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because lying to an empath is a fucking stupid idea. Wear armour.”

Ten minutes later Kiorl left Zinkara Rumah with Zai still grumbling about being hauled out of bed. The enforcer had at least taken the instruction to dress seriously, and the pair of them were rather conspicuous in combinations of hardened leather and forged steel armour. Zai had a pair of shiny vambraces with silver inlaid scrollwork Kiorl found himself being rather jealous of, and the other demon frowned as he saw that Kiorl, as well as his belt knife, was also sporting a black bladed scimitar with a notched hilt.

“I’ve not seen you geared up in a while, Kiorl. Where are we going?”

“Something came up in the Reaping Fields which his Highness doesn’t trust to just anyone on the enforcing team. Which is why we’re going.”

Zai visibly shivered, hand going to the pommel of his rapier.

“Rebellion?”

Kiorl was grateful Zai knew how to keep his voice low, nodded tightly, and approached the Portal. The Sphinx on duty nodded gracefully and moved aside with the soft grating of sandstone to allow Kiorl to access the dial. The panther span the concentric rings, only needing the three innermost ones, and touched several symbols in crystal and bronze which glowed under his fingers.

“Keep your portal stone close,” Kiorl muttered, and stepped through the portal as it opened.

It was not a long journey to the Reaping Fields. The outer rings were only on the other side of the fire mountains, but they were as inaccessible from the Inner Circle as any other world in the ‘verse. They stretched in an encirclement of misery and torment for more miles than Kiorl had ever seen with his own eyes, because once you’d watched one acre of wretched demons raising and harvesting wraiths, you’d seen them all. No one who didn’t have to ever went out there, and Kiorl knew it was the least favourite part of Zai’s job. He felt, momentarily, guilty for forcing the empath out into the realm of silently screaming souls, but there was no-one else he trusted to work with him on so sensitive a task.

They arrived on an unpopulated platform high above the Reaping fields, and Zai moved quickly to stand within Kiorl’s reach as the panther grasped his portal stone. Normally, neither of them would bother going closer, but this was already far from a normal day. Kiorl wrapped a dark hand around the back of Zai’s neck, and reminded himself not to read too much into the tightness with which the other demon held his waist as the portal stone glowed fiercely.

_As long as he minds his damn claws, I’ll forgive him for being needy._

The overseer of the Field was waiting for them when they appeared, and Zai instantly straightened up, and Kiorl remembered again why he had chosen is housemate to accompany him.

_He’s a fucking imposing bastard when he wants to be. They’re all terrified of him._

_They’re scared of you too._

_Everyone is scared of me._ Kiorl grinned deliberately, showing all his fangs to the overseer. _Doesn’t count._

“My lords,” he bowed deeply, his wings folded stiffly against his spine, “your appearance brings me great relief. These are the demons who were caught plotting to break from their torment.”

“Tell me.” Kiorl barked as the felt the presence of his Prince slide in alongside his own.

“They have begun to build a-a-a construct. Hoping to breach the fire mountains. I am sorry y’sire, I should have found them sooner.”

“And these are the ringleaders?” Kiorl gestured to the pair of demons who were bound in bone, both with bloodied faces, staked firmly into the red earth at the edge of the field. One was vaguely similar in shape to the overseer, the other had a rainbow carapace and barbed forelimbs. Kiorl didn’t recognise them, but their very presence as workers in the Reaping Fields told him enough. They had committed a crime severe enough to banish them forever, whether against the King or the Prince made no matter.

“Yes y’sire.”

Kiorl went to stand in front of the beetling creature and snarled. “Get up.”

The demon struggled to it’s feet, back and neck bowed by the short length of spinal bones which kept it tethered. Dark eyes looked up at Kiorl with a hard expression.

“I take no notice of the judgements of the false prince.”

It barely got the last word out before Zai stepped forward and kicked it sharply in the head with one heavy soled boot. Upon trying to rise a second time, Zai stepped on it’s neck, sword hissing from its sheath.

“Fucking try it,” he snarled. Kiorl turned his attention to the other demon.

“And are you as stupid as your friend?”

“You do not know the abomination you serve-!”

Zai’s fists were just as fast as his feet, and Kiorl rolled his eyes, wondering if a simple ‘yes’ in answer to his question wouldn’t have been easier. He glanced at the overseer, who hung back nervously.

“You did well to catch them and bring this to our attention.” _Nas, verdict please._ “Their associates?”

“We left them chained at the site where we found the construct y’sire.”

 _Kill and harvest the demons, destroy the construct._ Nassau’s silent voice vibrated with barely contained rage. _Break the bodies of the ringleaders and feed them to the Ankhara; let there be no trace of their souls left._ He paused, as if considering something. _If they have any useful talents, you may eat them first._

“Take us there.”

They left the two demons, still chained, and both now bleeding slightly more than they had been previously, and walked with the winged overseer to the chasm between two fields where the construct was. Zai had not bothered to replace his sword in its sheath, and having been told of Nassau’s order, set about dispatching the chained demons with quick efficiency. Kiorl knew his friend was a deeply twisted individual, even for a demon, but there was little pleasure to be found in killing a number of such lower creatures, and ones who’s minds had been so easily swayed at that. Zai wiped the mixed colours of blood from his sword with a small cloth, and followed Kiorl closer to the machine.

It was not finished, that much was clear, but the sheer scale of it was worrying: a vast number of pieces and bones, all forged, blended, or twisted made up it’s creation. Kiorl had no way of knowing if it would have worked, because nekros didn’t appear in the same way as thaumaturgic energy, and it was not the sort of magic he had ever worked with. The idea of the thing crashing through the fire mountains was monstrous.

_But it wouldn’t have sparked a rebellion. Everyone in the Inner Circle is too loyal for that._

_Are you sure?_

_Yes. We were very thorough in cleaning out Nathaneal’s supporters._

_Anyway, Father wouldn’t allow it,_ Nassau interjected. _I’m his only remaining heir after all._

_Indeed._

_Burn it._

Zai stepped back, and Kiorl knew the empath had heard their Prince’s instruction too. Kiorl held out a hand toward the construct, shaped a sigil in the air, and threw the fistful of blue fire at the machine. The front section burst into flame too bright to look at directly, and Kiorl repeated the performance at two other major junctures. Zai hovered at his shoulder as they watched the dread thing disintegrate.

They returned with the overseer, who was visibly less nervous now, to the place where the two other demons were staked. Kiorl glared down at them. The construct had been quite advanced, in both construction and magical prowess, and neither looked the type to posses such skills.

“Are there any others who flocked to your cause?”

“No.”

Zai’s snarl was hot and sharp, and Kiorl knew his friend well enough to be assured that the winged demon had lied.

_Idiots._

_They don’t know he’s an empath Kiorl_ , the Prince reminded him. _We kept it that way deliberately._

_Doesn’t make them any smarter._

“You got a fix on who?” He asked Zai offhandedly.

“Oh yes.”

Once again Kiorl was reminded why Zai was an enforcer, for all his empathic talents, because he watched the other demon stalk away into the Reaping Field, uncaring for the wails around him, moving as though bits of bone were not growing from the ground and forming slowly into wraiths which, still incomplete, tried to reach for him as he passed. Zai’s tufted tail never stilled, and the rapier in his hand gleamed with murderous intent. Nassau had given Zai everything he could have wished for in making Tobias immortal, and there was no one more loyal. It took Zai ten minutes to find his target, and only two to return with the bone covered, bird-limbed creature, one wing held at a clearly broken angle. He threw the necromancer at Kiorl’s feet.

“What does his Lordship want done with them?” Zai snarled, his desire for blood clearly not abated in the least.

“To the Ankhara.”

Zai gestured to the figure with the shiny carapace.

“You’ll want to tear out his throat and eat it first.”

“Oh?” Kiorl arched a dark eyebrow at his friend.

Zai’s grin was obscene.

“He has no gag reflex.”

Escorting multiple chained prisoners through The Way was not the simplest of tasks, and Kiorl linked his tail with Zai’s as each of them held an end of the bone restraints, completing the circle. The weakest of the three traitors, bleeding freely from his ruined neck, was in the centre – the least able to pull them from the path they had to take – and they made it to the circle of the Ankhara without incident.

The noise was an assault the moment they stepped from the portal.

_Fuck, I hate it here._

_Think how he feels._

Kiorl glanced over at his friend. Zai was very good at pretending not to show pain, but he was still pretending.

“Let’s make this quick.”

They dragged the three demons to the edge of the chasm, and it was there, so close to their impending demise, that the two who could still talk began to denounce their beliefs, back track on all they had said, and beg for mercy and forgiveness. Kiorl snarled, the sound lost in the cacophonous mass of growling which rose like a howl from the chasm.

“The Prince is not known for his mercy.” He drew his scimitar as he spoke, approaching the demon who had nearly escaped Nassau’s verdict. “You will be fed to the Ankhara. Your souls will be shredded and consumed. No trace of you shall remain. You will not join the horde at the campfires now or through eternity.”

“You are not an enforcer,” the demon spat, “you’ve no right to pass judgement.”

“I am the right hand of the King!” Kiorl thundered, rage flashing through him as he raised his arm.

The scimitar was sharp, magically so, and the cleaved open body of the demon toppled backwards into the chasm. Kiorl watched the carcass be instantly subsumed by the roiling mass of biting jaws, each snapping and holding into another, so that the impression of the Ankhara was an ever moving sea of eyes, teeth, tongues, and lips pulled back in never-ending rage and destruction. It filled the chasm, still churning out of sight on both horizons, and Kiorl knew from the time Nadavun had insisted they all walk around it, joined onto itself, circling the entirety of Hell.

Neither of the remaining demons bothered to beg, argue, or plead, and Kiorl despatched them quickly, cleaned his blade on the earth of the chasm’s edge, and retreated quickly to where Zai stood, vibrating with his desire to be gone from the place.

“Zai, I swear if you take all your tension out on Tobias before he gets a chance to finish cooking dinner...”

“You’re getting as bad as Sitka,” Zai managed, his acid yellow eyes wide and touched with a fear Kiorl understood well. “Let’s just go. Please.”

“Don’t compare me to the kid.” Kiorl huffed, but he took his portal stone and looped an arm over Zai’s shoulder as his friend came close and wrapped his tuft ended tail about his waist. “Come. Time’s a wasting.”

*

The little serpent sat, coiled happily, on a slab of black volcanic stone, scales glistening in the light of the campfires. It hissed at Kiorl as they approached, lifting it’s slender head, tasting the air with a vibrantly green forked tongue.

“Yes?”

There was another hiss, and then the voice of the King of Hell issued from the snake’s open mouth as it regarded them, unblinking.

“Fetch my favourite. Tell him to come to my chambers.” A pause, and Sathriel sighed, sounding uniquely bored. “Don’t wear anything too precious.”

The snake hissed again to signal the end of the message, and Kiorl rolled his eyes as he saw Zai’s grin spread.

“My, my… summons from the Palace so late in the day?”

“I see you’re feeling better.” Kiorl observed.

“I’ll tell Tobias to keep a plate for you. Have fun, Kiorl.”

Its message delivered, the serpent slithered away into a crevice between boulders, and Kiorl watched Zai depart toward the house. Zinkara Rumah sat on the hill, commanding the view, a welcoming sight Kiorl wished he was heading for. He wanted a bath, a hot dinner, and ten hours sleep, preferably in that order.

_But who cares what I want. Not the King for sure._

_Don’t knock it, he told himself sternly, a dozen others wish for his favour, and you have it._

_True._

_And you have a brand new skill to try out…_

He was met at the red door of the Palace by one of the myriad attendants. Apart from Nassau’s particular favourite vodyanoi, Kiorl never bothered to tell them apart, let alone ask their names.

“Master Kiorl, His Majesty is expecting you in-”

“Yes, I know. I must change first.”

“He bids that you do not dally.”

Kiorl snarled at the attendant – a collection of brittle tentacles and an intricately patterned spiral shell – and pressed his ears flat back over his skull.

“I do not require you tell me that Majesty is impatient. That is my concern, not yours. Be gone from my sight!”

“Yes master Kiorl.”

Kiorl stalked away, angry that so small a comment had brought his temper into such sharp relief. The fur on the back of his neck stood up, and Palace servants scattered from his approach as he made his way through the myriad twists and turns of the Palace to his own rooms. Every member of court had their own sleeping quarters within the Palace, and Kiorl’s were directly beneath Nassau’s apartments. Having been denied the opportunity to go home, Kiorl would have much rather headed for the quiet reprieve of Nassau’s study to drink and allow the Prince of beat him roundly at Fourchess. Instead he found himself having a perfunctory wash in the little alcove where there sat a tall pitcher of water, softsoap, and sluice in the floor for the water to drain into. He scrubbed at the blood and dust in his fur, the crackling intense heat left from standing so close to the chasm of the Ankhara, and shook himself dry. In his wardrobe, he stood before the mirror, and wondered which garment he didn’t mind the King tearing into un-salvageable shreds. His reflection frowned at him.

_Oh, fuck it._

Kiorl took up the knife from his belt sheath, wrapped the length of his now-fallen mohawk in one hand, and began to shear the lot off. He was left with the trace ends of the bright blue streak, and an all over length about an inch long. It wouldn’t matter, it would grow back. He found a plain red cotton chiton which fell to mid-thigh and pulled it on. It would do.

The chamber of His Majesty, Sathriel Ven Plamenoche, King and Lord of Hell, was as distant from Nassau’s as was possible, and Kiorl made his way down the tightly wound spiral staircase before crossing the Cavern where Sathriel preferred to hold court on the hot sand. Another, smaller door – one which would never fit the King in one of his larger, feral shapes – admitted him into a passage lit with greasy torches, their thick black smoke obscuring everything just above the tips of Kiorl’s ears. Kiorl slunk through and pressed his palm to the stone door at the far end, which swung heavily inward. If anything, Sathriel was even more secretive about who entered his chamber than his son was – not an easy feat – and Kiorl spent a moment being happy he hadn’t been called to the throne instead.

Sathriel reclined on the bed wearing his most classical form, and the one Kiorl enjoyed the most. The Devil was blood red, broad shouldered, deeply muscled, and his smile at seeing Kiorl was undeniably pleased and possessive. Kiorl stepped forward as the door closed behind him, raking his King with his eyes as Sathriel did the same.

“Come.” The single deep syllable was all command, and Kiorl felt every mote of his body vibrate to the sound. The Devil had made him, along with every other demon in the Inner Circle, and Kiorl would have been lying if he’d said there wasn’t part of him which rather liked being told so firmly what to do by someone so much more powerful than he was.

The Devil watched him with dark eyes as Kiorl stepped forwards to the bed. Sathriel slept on a black granite slab made soft with dozens of layers of furs, and he leant on one elbow, the arches of both sets of horns framing his intense expression. Kiorl knew better than to strip – if Sathriel wanted him naked he’d want to do it himself – but knelt between his King’s powerful thighs and stroked the heat he found there. The King was already part roused, which Kiorl took as a victory all by itself, and the thickening muscle in his hands was already far larger than his own. Training himself to pleasure his King had taken years.

_And it was worth it. It kept you alive._

_This stopped being a political move a century ago._

_You’re a terrible liar. Even to yourself_

Kiorl flicked his tail in irritation at his inner voice’s remarks, then produced a pleased purr as Sathriel stroked a large, possessive hand over his newly shorn hair, his ears, a thumb catching at the side of his mouth. Kiorl knew he used the same gesture, and wondered if this was in fact where he’d learnt it.

“Attend me.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

Eating the throat of the traitor had been worth it for the groan Sathriel made as Kiorl managed the not inconsiderable feat of taking his entire length without any other preparation. It wasn’t comfortable, and his jaw ached after only ten heartbeats, but Kiorl closed his eyes and listened instead to the groans and half snarls of his lover which were familiar enough by now to be used as actual instructions.

_Deeper, more tongue, draw back, lick the head, again. Again. He likes that. Tongue the slit._

“Nnnngh! Good boy.”

Having a texturally interesting tongue to match his feline shape had always been something Kiorl used in his favour, but now he felt thick fingers at the back of his neck, and realised Sathriel couldn’t just pull him off by his hair as he usually did. Kiorl sat back, kneeling on his paws – all claws sheathed – with a pleased expression. That he’d gotten his King close to the edge with just his mouth was enough to stir his own lust. Sathriel did not have his son’s stamina or capacity for multiple orgasms and Kiorl had known from the message that the King intended to make full use of him.

“Grow your hair back.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Now come here.”

Kiorl wrapped his tail around his own calf as he slid into Sathriel’s lap, the short skirt of his chiton bunching up around his thighs, doing little to hide his own erection, and groaned as he felt the thick muscle of his lover pressing against him through the fabric. He was not expecting Sathriel to pull him close, open his mouth with the intense pressure of his fingers either side of Kiorl’s jaw, and kiss him savagely. Sathriel kissed like a King, all entitlement and desire. He took everything he wanted, everything Kiorl offered him, more, and stripped the panther of even the illusion of free will. Kiorl panted, half fighting to breath whilst he was plundered, but kissed back with greed which was not false. Sathriel dragged rough fingers down his spine and Kiorl purred.

“There’s my favourite…” Kiorl whimpered against the deep red chest as he was lifted and spread. “Open yourself for me.”

 _I’ll never not wish for lube…_ Kiorl thought silently, forcing himself not to wince and grit his fangs. Such actions not only made the discomfort worse as muscles which needed to loosen tensed instead, but Sathriel did not like him to show outward signs of pain. _At least, not like this._ If his lover wanted to hurt him, Kiorl would know about it, in detail. He panted, using every scrap of self discipline to control his breathing as he was split open by the Devil’s enormous cock. Only once his arse rested upon Sathriel’s hips did he groan.

“Good boy.”

He was expecting the familiar sharp, bone shatteringly hard thrusts which were usual in their coupling, but instead Sathriel simply ground against him, the motion shifting the girth of his cock, making Kiorl shiver as his nerves were set alight with sensation. Sathriel held his hips in one hand, stroking his body boldly with the other, keeping him exactly where he was as he became less and less articulate with each subtle, mind-blowing tremor. When the King wrapped a hot hand around his aching erection, Kiorl practically screamed.

“I watched you, my favourite, at the Ankhara.” That Sathriel’s voice was unaffected by the rising heat between them seemed distinctly unfair to Kiorl. “Most loyal and obedient of all my creations… yes, there’s a good boy...” Kiorl felt like he was coming apart at the seems, direct praise from the Devil was incredibly rare, and to have Sathriel stroke him whilst he spoke, reaming him gently, was quickly too much to cope with. “You _are_ the right hand of the King, my strength will be yours to do my bidding...”

“Ahhhh! Sire!”

“Yes, come for me. There….”

Kiorl couldn’t look away, trapped by the power in Sathriel’s dark gaze as he lost the hold on his self control and came messily between them. The Devil anointed him with his emission, and Kiorl felt the thrum of power as clearly as if the ritual were being completed properly. He was not tired, not even remotely, and the drew himself up, away from Sathriel, twisting his body as he rose up the great length before thrusting back onto the Devil’s erection once more. New power, fresh and clear like glacier ice from Upstairs, sang through his veins, and Kiorl gripped his King’s waist with his thighs, and set about reminding the Devil exactly why his favour strayed so rarely from Kiorl’s finely furred body.

Sathriel came within him, snarling wordlessly, holding Kiorl so tight he already had bruises under his fur, and pulled from him too soon and too fast, making the panther whine at the sensation of emptiness within. Even more so than usual, his legs felt wobbly and Kiorl was not looking forward to putting on a good show as he left. It was a pleasant surprise to have Sathriel pull him to his chest, relaxing back into the thick furs of the bed. Kiorl unwrapped his tail from his leg, and tried not to show pain at the stiffness of his joints or the soreness of his well-used arse.

“Tell me of my son.”

“He is well.” _You two could fucking talk to each other of course._ Kiorl was eternally grateful the Devil did not share his son’s talents as an empath. “Sitka, a scavenger of my house, has recruited. Nassau seems to enjoy him.” He deliberately did not mention Tobias, with whom Nassau spent a great deal of time, physically, and in the kind of mental gymnastics which gave Kiorl a headache even to think of, because keeping Zai away from Sathriel was a habit ingrained over many centuries. More empaths in Hell would be the very last thing the King wanted.

“And what of you?” Sathriel asked, with a quirk of his lips.

“I have always made my feelings on trying to mate with mortals pretty damn clear.” Kiorl replied crisply. _Even even if Jahke is the best cocksucker in this, or any other, world in the ‘verse._

Sathriel laughed, the deep noise something akin to a rockslide, edged with a dragon’s roar. The shiver which ran up Kiorl’s spine was not entirely pleasant, but also not wholly unwelcome.

“I am so glad that on this we have always agreed.” The King stroked a firm hand down Kiorl’s spine, and the panther flexed automatically into the touch. “And how long have you been my favourite, Kiorl?”

“I would never presume-” Kiorl began, but he was unexpectedly interrupted by Sathriel’s large hand, wrapping around his tumescent member. “Unnnghhhh!”

“A long time, I think. You do very well to please me.”

“T-t-thank you Sire.”

The Devil smiled.

“We must ensure our favourite is happy, mustn’t we...”

It was rare that his pleasure was considered at all, and though Kiorl knew there would almost certainly be rough treatment to come, he gave himself over willingly to the unusual sensation of the King stroking him to his peak.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiorl gets into a fight: Zai is good at aftercare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for major bloody violence.

“You are joking?” Jahke looked between the two powerful demons with a horrified expression. “Sitka, stop them.”

The faun’s horned lover shook his head, wrapping both arms around Jahke’s slender form, and very wisely pulled him out of the way.

“I can’t make either of them do anything, remember.”

“Tobias!” Jahke protested.

“They want to tear each other to bits, let them.” The chef glared at his lover and the panther facing him across the room. “But you aren’t doing it here. It’s Nonae, go to the Arena if you want to hit each other.”

Nassau’ s voice, unbidden, slid into the minds of each of the assembled party.

_Why don’t you all come? We’ll make a day of it, and there are several other bouts lined up._

_I swear if you bet against me…_ Kiorl directed his thought to his friend, but Tobias’s smirk told him the other empath had heard him anyway.

“Well, let’s go.”

Zinkara Rumah was an important house, a popular house, and when the entire cohort spilled from it’s door and out into the Inner Circle, other demons stopped, watched, and moved smartly out of their way. Only Shindae and Jin-Ha were missing, both on separate errands Upstairs, and Kiorl smiled politely at minor demons who bowed or genuflected as they passed. Everyone said Zinkara Rumah was the most favoured house on the hill, and Kiorl didn’t see why anyone else should be allowed to forget it.

They were met at the tall doors into the Palace by Nassau’s favourite attendant, even though Kiorl knew his way intimately through the maze of passages, it was a relief not to have to watch every single one of his minor demons and their recruits quite so closely. The very last thing he wanted was to lose one of his housemates in the Palace; it would damage his reputation. 

The tiered seating of the Arena was fuller than Kiorl had seen it in many decades.

_That’ll please Sathriel,_ he thought to himself,  _He always likes it when the Palace is busy._ He turned to Zai with a snarl.

“I’ll see you on the sands.”

“Fuck yeah, you will.” The empath shot back at him, and Kiorl left his housemates to find seats and friends, and began to lope his way around one of the upper tiers. 

Nassau was sat by himself, about halfway up the amphitheatre, wings draped across the step above, dressed in a pale cotton chiton and looking every inch the relaxed Prince-at-leisure with his long dark hair spilling over one shoulder.

“My dear friend.”Nassau stood as they embraced, and Kiorl knew that almost all eyes in the Arena were on them. There were lots of demons present who would never appear at court, and the chance to see the Prince with his closest advisor was not to be passed over. “And what is it you and Zai are arguing about today?”

“He and Tobias have gotta learn to mind their own fucking business, that’s what.” Kiorl grumbled.

“And you should be better at keeping them out. You have plenty of time to practice.”

Kiorl’s tail whipped behind him with a snap, his ears flicking back over his hair. It was growing back in nicely, though it had reached the annoying stage of too long to stay where it was put, and too short to tie up. His frustration with his hair getting in his face had been what started this particular vocal and physical bout of argument with Zai to begin with.

“It’s _my_ house,” Kiorl griped. “If I have to fight him for it then-”

_You are not fighting for the house!_ Nassau’s silent voice was like the slap of a branding iron.

“Yes Nas. Sorry.” The panther exhaled deeply, letting himself sink back against the stone steps, grabbing an extra seat cushion for his shoulders. “So who’s up next. You said there were other bouts?”

“Kage chose Phrize as his candidate for this year’s Games Champion. Baccha is training him up.”

Kiorl leant forward, elbows on his knees. He knew the fire elemental well, his frozen-blood ed  brother was a favourite companion of Shindae’s, and everyone was aware of Baccha’s status as undefeated in the Arena.

“Training bout… you going to let them really go at it?”

Nassau nodded, the storm clouds in his eyes swirling.

“Oh goody.”

The big black minotaur stood in the centre of the sands, arms spread, as his fur was pasted to his skin with stripes of thick white paint, applied by  another minor demon . Kiorl sought through his memory for the major demon of their house, and came up with a six-armed, spiny creature called Ghianda, someone he often came across in the court of the King. He found the other demon in the stands, and made the common symbol to place a bet. Ghianda nodded happily, confident in the abilities of his friend, and smiled with all three rows of teeth on show as the minotaur hefted his enormous battle axe onto his shoulder.

Phrize needed no such ceremony, but took up a thin curved sabre and a whip-like chain flail which instantly sizzled into flame at his touch, and turned to face his opponent across the sands. The fire along his back crackled, sparking blue with intensity.

Two Palace servants came in, bearing a stone dish and bone handled brush, and blessed both demons with the blood of  a landesser, slaughtered especially for the occasion. The sand was marked all around the ring with the blood, more smeared in complex patterns over the arches of each entrance, and the air shimmered as the spell sealed itself. Both figures within the Arena sands shivered visibly, but it was Phrize who tightened his grip on his weapons and readied his stance. Kiorl smirked, pleased with his wager. Every injury would count, everything would hurt… it would be a fair fight, right up until the moment the blood was washed from the walls and disturbed in the sands. If the God Ender of Worlds chose Phrize as his champion, he would want the elemental in perfect fighting form, regardless of how excruciating his training had been. 

Phrize was fast, agile, light on his feet and skilful with his dual wielded weapons. But Baccha was undisputed champion, and he could absorb blows like a mountain resisting the wind. When the whip lashed his arm for the second time the big minotaur grabbed it, not caring for the fire, and began to wrap it around his arm, hauling the physically smaller elemental into range of his axe. 

_You’re gonna lose that bet._ Nassau smirked silently.

_Not fucking yet,_ Kiorl replied. 

The stands were thick with cheering and shouts, but on the sands, all was quiet… right up until the moment Baccha roared in pain. Phrize shimmered, all but invisible, his flames replaced by a heat haze as he used all his powers to super-heat the whip far beyond the point where the minotaur could stand it. He dropped the handle and fled back into his own shape – significantly dimmed – as Baccha sunk to his knees. Whip removed, many in the stands including Ghianda gasped audibly at the blackened mess of their champion’s arm, burnt through to the bone. The minotaur bellowed, the sound reverberating around the Arena, making Kiorl’s teeth vibrate uncomfortably.

The charge was quick, too quick, and the one handed swing of the axe was both broad and precise. There was no way it could have been avoided. Even with one arm in tatters, Baccha was physically incredibly strong, and the axe chopped straight through Phrize’s torso and sunk several inches deep into the wall. Baccha stepped back, panting, clearly pleased, and froze as the razor edge of the elemental’s sabre pressed up right enough under his chin to draw a thin line of bright red blood. Gasps and cheers abounded in equal volume and Kiorl grinned across the stands at Ghianda.

“Pay up!”

“I’ve not seen anyone use that skill in a long time,” Nassau’s tone was entirely complimentary, and Kiorl wondered if, once returned to full strength, Phrize might be making a private appearance in Nassau’s court. “Form compression like that wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t already spent so much of his fire...”

_Oh yeah, flame-boy is definitely going to be getting lucky_ . Kiorl stood and smiled at his friend.

“Shall we?”

The attendants were wiping away the blood blessing, and as they did the elemental champion glowed strongly as his flames were replenished. Baccha’s arm healed from the inside out, a process which created a stench of burnt hair and seared meat across the Arena. Various spectators used skills of their own to clear the air.

“Hey Kiorl!” 

The panther glanced up at Jahke’s voice, the pale little faun sitting across his mate’s lap, looking smug.

“I told you books were useful!”

Kiorl flicked an ear.

“Whatever do you mean, Jahke dear?” Nassau coated his voice in silk as he addressed the recruit. Jahke in turn blushed attractively.

“Sire...” He dipped his head observantly: no one was required to show full obeisance in so informal a setting. “I found a book of elemental instruction on a trip to Stores. It’s very old. Last time Phrize was over I loaned it to him.”

“You taught him how to compress his shape and heat flow across the Arena?” Kiorl was impressed.

“Well, he taught himself. But I did find the tools for him.” Jahke beamed, wiggling his hips. “See, I told you books were useful.”

“Very well done. Bravo Jahke.” Nassau gave him a smile and then shot Kiorl a sidelong glance. _I think we should find a job for Everybody’s Favourite Faun, don’t you?_

Kiorl smirked, then scowled as Zai descended the tier toward them.

“Let’s be getting on with it, shall we?”

The mere fact that Nassau walked onto the sands with them was enough to focus the attention of every soul in the room. When both began to shed clothes and bits of armour, Kiorl was sure he felt the tension in the Arena rise like an expectant wave. Nassau spoke.

“Master Kiorl and the enforcer Zai of Zinkara Rumah wish to settle a private dispute.”

There were jeers, someone let out a shrill wolf whistle, and an idiot sitting close to the group of Kiorl and Zai’s housemates looked at Tobias and made an explicit and rude gesture. Inai backhanded him across the face without hesitation. No decent friend of the house would think it was Tobias they were fighting over: the boy had made his preference for seclusion, privacy, and monogamy very plain. Kiorl didn’t understand him, but he respected the kid enough not to want to break his rules. The food was worth it.

“No weapons, no powers, no magic,” that last was directed at Kiorl, “and no abilities.” Silently, the Prince glared levelly at the pair of them. _No powerplays, and no bragging rights. After this is done, I don’t want to hear of it again._

Zai bowed, Kiorl inclined his head.

“A fair fight, for the settlement of an argument.” And with that, he left the sands. 

There was no blessing, but everyone, Kiorl included, turned to watch Nassau as he sketched glyphs of power in the air. Kiorl closed his eyes and opened them twice in the way he’d been taught by Sathriel – so long ago it was like a dream of a dream – to see the patterns which made up the world. Nassau’s magic bent and changed them, creating a cage the size of the arena sands in layers of transparent and translucent wefts of power. It was the kind of magic which was useless in a fight, it was too complicated and took too long, but deeper and more skilled than anything Kiorl could do, and he was one of best magicians in Hell. With the final symbol in position, the pattern was complete, the visions Kiorl was watching vanished, and all his powers, along with the last dropped item of his clothing, disappeared.

It was strange and oddly chilling to stand there facing Zai, and have nothing to call upon. All his abilities, some gifted at his creation, some gained in battle, were gone. There was no cloak of seduction to throw out, no shadow to vanish within, no magic to wield, nothing. Kiorl wondered what it was like for Zai, who as an empath was so connected to everything, to be suddenly stripped of all those links. 

_It’s probably rather freeing,_ he mused, and focused bright blue eyes on his opponent. 

Naked, the differences between them were only heightened. Zai might have worn fur, and his long tail was beautifully tufted at the tip with steel grey which matched his short hair, but he was not feline like Kiorl was. The panther flexed his paws in the sand, each claw gouging noticeable streaks as he did so, joints bending in readiness for the strike. He laid back his ears, and sneered.

“Don’t worry Jahke, I won’t let them kill each other,” Nassau’s voice carried – it was deliberate – as he spoke to the faun. “First to yield, or fall unconscious, loses.”

He sensed Zai’s move before he saw it, fine feline insight doing its job, and dodged the pounce and blow. But not far enough. Zai’s claws raked his calf, and blood splattered onto the sands amid the deafening shouts of the spectators. Kiorl snarled, rounded, swept the minor demon off his feet, and then they were grappling, arms locked around each other, claws scratching and scraping, small injuries ignored, fighting for purchase and position. The roof and the sands flipped several times, Zai snatched back a growl as Kiorl whipped him across the eyes with his tail, then used his hind paws to push Zai in the chest, scoring him deeply, rolling up and away. Kiorl grinned.

Zai stood, turned, and even with blood dripping down his abdomen, smirked, gesturing with two fingers with an unmistakeable ‘come hither’. Kiorl laid back both ears and hissed at him, all fangs on show. 

Kiorl was not expecting the punch, because they both had claws and Kiorl always used his, but Zai was strong – he was an enforcer who trained daily after all – and knuckles to the jaw were no laughing matter. Kiorl grabbed Zai’s shoulder, puncturing the muscle, but Zai was fast. The following punches landed – temple, jaw, up under his muzzle, sternum, jaw again – faster than Kiorl’s heartbeats, and the panther realised he’d underestimated Zai’s capacity and desire to cause pain.

_Just because he has Tobias now… I thought that made him soft._

Kiorl was proud he didn’t scream as Zai rent his shoulder open. He twisted away, defensive, and the pain followed round his ribs as Zai moved with him across the sands, fingers in his flesh. It was the bite – unexpected and excruciating – on his upper thigh that made him scream. He lashed out with his tail again, flinging sand in Zai’s face, and scrambled away from the ash-furred demon. Zai grinned at him, lips bloody, obviously proud. Kiorl took a step, and winced as his bitten leg took his weight. He hadn’t bothered to catalogue his other injuries, and there  were  obviously others. Zai took the opening without mercy.

They wrestled, but Kiorl spent more time on his back than Zai did, wasted energy blocking punches which turned into claws, yowled as the other demon bit three  neat  holes right through his ear. Kiorl spat blood, felt one of his ribs break, and realised he was going to lose.

_Lose? Lose to Zai? On the sands of the Arena in front of everyone? How long do you think you’ll keep the favour of the King as a loser?_

Zai smiled at him, expression evil even as he cracked another rib with his hand, clearly enjoying himself. Kiorl’s world narrowed along with his slit pupils.

Not for nothing was he the only demon besides Nassau left alive who had trained  _alongside_ the Princes. He had grown up sparring with Nadavun and Nathaneal, trained by Sathriel personally. Kiorl might not have had his abilities or his magic, but he was better trained in combat than any other occupant of the Inner Circle. White hot feral rage snapped through him, wound around a core of discipline which he’d honed for millennia.

It took two heartbeats, and then Zai was on his back in the sands, the muscles of his abdomen sliced through, half gutted. Kiorl’s hand was around his throat, squeezing hard as Zai’s tail thrashed, then twitched.

“Stop!” It was Tobias’s voice, half a strangled shout, full of distress. “Stop it!”

Kiorl snarled. Nassau’s rules were very plain, and it wasn’t the chef Kiorl wanted to hear from. Zai stilled underneath him, sun-yellow eyes dimming.

“Y-yield,” he gasped, barely the suggestion of a word.

Kiorl growled, fingers flexing. Zai coughed.

“Yield!”

The panther let go and stood in one motion, though it was not smooth. He blinked, folding his ears back against the cacophony of cheers and shouting, and belatedly realised his vision was blurry on his left side, and there wasn’t a bit of him which didn’t ache or screech in pain. He moved back from Zai’s prone form, clearly limping. He’d won, but he knew it was Zai’s reputation which had risen, because he had  _nearly_ beaten a major demon of both royal courts, and that made him better than any other enforcer for several centuries. 

There was a flood of sensation as Nassau ripped the central glyph from his spell, and Tobias was sprinting across the sands to his mate. The look he speared Kiorl with was intensely hateful, but faltered when Nassau spoke to them softly.

_It is done. They have argued and it is settled. There is no more reason for you to hate Kiorl now than you did this morning._

Everything went quiet as Nassau entered the sands of the Arena, the attention of entire colosseum trained upon the resplendent winged figure. Nassau smiled, and Kiorl gave him a lop sided grin in return.

_You’re a mess._

_You should see the other guy._

_I have. Oh Kiorl…_

_He asked for it._ Kiorl thought, and hoped it was mostly private, because Nassau had never enjoyed gloating in anyone.

The Prince turned to Zai, took a breath, and sent his magic to the demon with the push of one palm. It was the kind of thrust of power none of them could hope to achieve in several lifetimes. Nassau’s magic was trained to his desires, as all magic was, but the Prince had woven every strand of that power himself, laid the foundations over decades when tiny eeks of magic was all he had to work with, and so the effect of his impact was not only stronger but perfectly formed. Zai glowed, his whole body suddenly like his eyes, and as the assembly stared, he was released by the Prince’s magic, whole, healed, refreshed, and standing on the sands as though the entire fight hadn’t yet taken place. He turned and kissed his mate hungrily, obviously roused.

Kiorl rolled his eyes.

_You two are fucking ridiculous._

_You don’t want me in your head Kiorl, then stop inviting us in._

_Piss off._ Kiorl replied without feeling, he turned to Nassau.

“And what about me?”

Nassau smirked, eyes full of mirth.

“I’m sure Zai will take care of you.” _If you ask nicely._

Kiorl growled at his friend and sovereign’s retreating back. He gathered his power around him, and whilst a thick pad of magic could temporarily staunch the worst of his bleeding, it did nothing for the pain. Pride and stubbornness allowed him to limp from the Arena without challenge.

“Kiorl.”

_I’mma fucking kill him this time._

“Kiorl!”

“Go away Zai” Kiorl could feel his injuries worsening. He just wanted to go lie down in his rooms and not think about anything for a while. “Go back to Tobias.” He staggered, one hand reaching out to the intricately mosaicked wall.

“Seven Hells, Kiorl!” Zai caught him under the arm, supporting his weight. “Your stubbornness is going to kill you one day.”

Kiorl snarled at him, fangs bared, but the hand which should have shoved the other demon away missed, and Kiorl realised belatedly his vision in his left eye had gone from blurred to practically non-existent. Zai let out an aggravated sigh.

“Fuck’s sake Ki! You won! Everyone just saw you beat me to a fucking pulp before you barely spared me my life. You’re the boss, but I'm not letting you kill yourself over it.” Zai wrapped a strong arm around his waist and pulled him away from the wall, keeping him anchored with his tail bound around Kiorl’s other shoulder. “Now, which way is it to your room? I fucking hate this stupid maze of a Palace….”

Kiorl supposed he should have at least been grateful that Zai was good at following directions, because by the time they reached his suite, he was dripping blood steadily onto the floor, smearing the pattern with his tail as they went. The door opened under his touch, and Kiorl groaned as Zai laid him down upon the padded and many-cushioned seating platform. The dense geometric patterned cloth above him weaved in and out of focus.

“Fuck me… Gods Ki, why on earth do you ever sleep at the house when you have this much space here?” Zai sounded impressed, and Kiorl wondered if the other demon would care that he was the first person other than Nassau to enter Kiorl’s room since Kiaza had left. Then he remembered that Zai was in full possession of his empathic powers, and would now know that anyway. “Kiorl? What’s wrong?”

Kiorl growled, then grunted in pain as he tried to stretch torn muscles.

Zai frowned.

“Hold still. Let me sort you out.”

The panther had watched Zai use his power plenty of times, but he’d never had occasion to experience the shiveringly strange sensation of Zai’s healing tongue lapping at his flesh, joining muscle and skin with each  pass , his fur regrowing and smoothing at an unnaturally fast pace. It was an exceedingly good gift, and Kiorl wondered which of Zai’s original siblings it had belonged to. The ash-furred demon knelt beside him bent double to lap at the long scores he’d opened across Kiorl’s ribs, and the panther turned himself at Zai’s silent instruction as he continued to work across his back.

“You can talk to me Kiorl, if you want to.”

Kiorl snorted.

“So you can give away all my secrets instead? How wonderful.”

Zai paused, fingers tightening uncomfortably on Kiorl’s damaged thigh.

“Nassau knows all our secrets anyway. And you know Tobias would never tell anyone anything he learnt. Fuck, he’s the only one of us who even gives a crap about any kind of privacy.” Zai finished healing the long lash in his side and began to attend the deep bite in Kiorl’s thigh with the soft drag of his tongue. “C’mon Ki, you can’t just spend the next century haughty and pissed off and not talking to anyone.”

Kiorl sighed, all his breath leaving him in a juddering sough, and he found his good arm, moving to stroke Zai’s short steel hair. Zai squeezed his thigh gently in response, and continued with his ministrations. 

“Everyone was very impressed with you today. The best enforcer in the Inner Circle… you’d best not get picked by one of the Gods as a champion though. Tobias would be miserable.”

Zai arched an eyebrow at him in surprise.

“Oh fuck you Zai, of course I care. He’s the best chef there is.” Kiorl exhaled again, then knuckled his friend’s scalp softly. Zai paused to look at him. “I never thought it would work between you. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to find either of you in my head again though.”

“We’ll do our best, but you are rather loud.” Zai moved, stretched, then lay along side him, and Kiorl frowned as he scooted in close, a hand on the back of Kiorl’s head, tilting his face downward. Kiorl stiffened. “Kiorl… your ear.”

“Oh.” The panther relaxed, and huffed as his nose was pressed into the centre of Zai’s firm chest. “I still don’t know why you bother though Zai. Keeping him happy seems to take such a lot of effort.”

“He’s worth it.” Zai replied between licks. “Anyway, I like to spend my time thinking of him, finding things to please him.”

That was enough to make Kiorl jerk upward, leaning on one elbow. Zai followed the motion, kissed his cheek, and began to set about fixing the swelling of cheek and brow which had caused his eye to shut.

“Dear gods, why?”

“Because I love him.”

“You sound like an idiot.” Kiorl told him, but the other demon merely shrugged.

Zai leant back with a purr, surveying Kiorl with  a  critical  gaze , and the panther knew that whilst his most obvious injuries were mended, his friend intended to fix all the damage he’d done. He held out an arm, and Zai threaded their fingers together, bending to his task. Kiorl watched him, all soft and supple, the same way he was with Tobias, especially when they thought no one was around to see them, and realised that Zai genuinely didn’t care if Kiorl thought he sounded stupid for loving Tobias. It did not matter to him, not one bit. The knowledge irked him.

_Caring what people think of you is all you have,_ his inner voice told him with a snarl.  _What are you without your reputation?_

_I am the left hand of the Prince and the right hand of the King,_ he assured himself firmly.

_A position you gained with what skills exactly? Being really fucking good in bed._

Kiorl didn’t realise he’d snarled aloud until Zai froze, lips and tongue at his wrist.

“Sorry. It’s not you.”

“I can tell that much.” Zai’s yellow eyes dimmed as he frowned gently. “What bothers you, my great friend?”

“Nothing,” Kiorl rumbled, knowing the empath would be fully aware he was lying.

Zai finished, sat up fully and leant in to kiss him properly. Kiorl purred against him happily enough: Zai was a good kisser, strong and sure of himself, and careful with his fangs. Despite that, as they parted he was still frowning.

“Kiorl, may I make a suggestion?”

“Go on.”

“Maybe try loving somebody more than once Ki. You might surprise yourself.”

*

There was a room in Zinkara Rumah where no one went. The door was not locked, it never had been, but the room had been unoccupied for more than a century. How much more, Kiorl couldn’t say, because he never bothered counting the years, not from that long ago. The first bedroom at the top of the grand staircase was different from the others, and not only because it had no marks upon the door. The name plate Nassau had gifted Tobias and Zai had started a trend which Jahke had improved upon – though why the bathroom needed a label, Kiorl couldn’t understand in the slightest – and even his own door had a letter carved into it which indicated his ownership. 

The first and empty bedroom also contained an enormous fireplace, and it was on the stone ledge there that Kiorl sat, wondering what had become of the tufted woven rug which had once rested there.

_We had fucking terrific sex on that rug._

The bed was like his own, a broad stone dish, brimming with layers of furs, myriad in their hues and patterns, but though the furs looked clean and new, the bed had been empty for as long as the room had been, and no fire had burnt in the swept out grate since it’s previous occupant had vanished. Kiorl let out a deep sigh, and touched his fingers to the floor of the fireplace, expecting but not encountering, a layer of soft ash under his hand.

“Where did you go, old friend?” he asked into the silence. 

Kiorl hadn’t dared step into the room, let alone linger, in many years. The only reason he was allowing himself the indulgence now was because Nassau had gone to the Garden and Kiorl could allow himself the very rare luxury of keeping a secret from his oldest friend. When they had first moved to this house, the fire in this room had never burnt out-

‘ _We can’t have sex in the actual fire Kiaza...’_

_The boy tugged again on his hand, all smiles and shimmering scales._

‘ _Why not?’_

‘ _Oh Treasure… not all of us are fireproof.’_

_Cold magic, so unlike his own, travelled silkily up his arm, even as Kiorl drew the boy into his embrace._

‘ _I got enough skills to keep you safe. Don’t you trust me?’_

‘ _After last time? I’m not sure he should.’_

_They both turned to the doorway with broad smiles._

‘ _Nas!’_

But now… Kiorl would have been surprised if Sitka even remembered what Kiaza looked like, and Inai had never even met him. Kiorl wrapped his tail around his knees and gazed at the blank expanse of hearthstone without really seeing it. 

Unlike his wounds – which were perfectly healed and, apart from the bruising under his jaw Zai could not fix, appeared as though they had never even been – Zai’s observations of his general mood stung. Kiorl was the highest ranking major demon in the Inner Circle, he wanted for neither friends nor lovers, he could have anyone he wanted, for just about anything….

_But who the fuck is there to talk to… it’s not like Sathriel ever gives a shit about the things in my life._

_Not unless they pertain to his son,_ his inner voice reminded, unhelpfully.

_Would it kill the two of them to talk to each other?_

Kiorl stood, flicked his gaze from the fireplace to the bed and back again with a sigh.

_Come home Kiaza._ He knew he would never say the words out loud.  _Come home, I miss you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kiorl goes to fetch some new demons and provides a bit of care and comfort for Nassau

Kiorl let his claws trail over the relief carvings which lined the walls of the passage as he made his way, slowly, deliberately so, down into the bowels of the Palace. Here everything was old, made long before Nassau had been skilled enough to help with construction, and the friezes were beautiful, they were also simplistic and angular when compared to more recent ones in the Palace above. He stopped in front of his favourite and smiled at the image which showed a young Prince Nassau leading a black feline shape by the hand. Sathriel sat upon his throne, depicted smiling broadly.

_I know I’m biased, but I think creating me was about the last nice thing he did for his son._

_True, but he certainly wasn’t nice to you last night._

Kiorl winced at the thought, rubbing the back of his neck and the stiffness there. The motion did nothing to stop him from feeling the stretch and pain of other muscles.

_Sathriel had been in a mood. Whatever he’d tried to accomplish Upstairs had clearly not gone as intended, and Kiorl had the suspicion that the Devil had been in conference with a servant of one of the Gods, because the last time he’d been similarly annoyed had been after Ifrit had declined to take his meeting. Kiorl had never met a God, and he was keen to keep it that way: their Heralds were bad enough._

_He’d been in his suite when Sathriel had called for him. Not discreetly, sending an attendant or a Palace server, but loudly, by standing in the Grand Hall and roaring for him. Court had scattered, all the major demons who weren’t Kiorl wisely deciding that they suddenly had other very important places to be, and Kiorl had been left kneeling before the throne dreading the moment when Sathriel would settle on one shape or another and actually touch him._

_The panther had hoped for swift and painful, but what he’d received was the blackest of the Devil’s tempers. And so it had been brutal, agonising, never ending as Sathriel had reamed him, hands holding his legs open with no thought to comfort and only a fraction of care for Kiorl’s physiological capabilities. They hadn’t left the throne room, and Kiorl had been held by his throat to the arm of the great stone chair as Sathriel had fucked him over and over until he’d blacked out. It had only been for a moment, not long enough for the Devil to notice, and Kiorl was glad of that at least. Afterwards Sathriel had put him on his knees and kept him there with a single massive paw, and Kiorl had worked his girth with tongue and hands until the King had been, finally, fully satisfied. Then Kiorl had got up, and somehow made it back to Zinkara Rumah and the bathpool before completely collapsing._

_To his surprise, it had been Tobias who had woken him with a soft touch to his shoulder. The boy brought him new bread and meats, wine and a selection of small red fruits Kiorl secretly enjoyed far more than anyone else they lived with._

‘ _Strawberries.’_

‘ _If you say so.’_

_Kiorl had eaten, half fed by the chef whilst still mostly submerged in the bathpool, and had been oddly impressed with the empath’s resolve when Tobias stayed whilst he washed himself. It had not been a task he could accomplish without wincing._

‘ _You do not have to talk to me.’ Tobias said_

‘ _Good. I ain’t.’_

_The boy paused, held in a half crouch, his gaze level._

‘ _The war is long over Kiorl. You do not have to kill yourself for him.’_

‘ _What?’_

_Tobias stood, his lips a thin line, frowning gently. Kiorl hated the idea that the skinny recruit felt sorry for him._

‘ _Zai is right, the world is changed. There are other ways to achieve your political goals.’_

_He hadn’t said anything more, but waited for the empty plate and wine glass, smiled at Kiorl as he handed them over, and left him alone. Kiorl had gone to bed, gazed up at the draped ceiling of silks, and hoped he could forget the entire thing._

But the moment he’d stepped from the house, there had been a fat diamond-patterned snake waiting for him, and Kiorl had sheathed his belt knife with a scowl. The King wanted him, now, and Kiorl was dithering in the winding passages of the Palace, dreading the inevitable. Not for a century or more had he doubted his position in court, or what he had to do to maintain it, and he hated the idea that Tobias had read him so easily. He was alone in the Palace, or as alone as it was ever possible to be whilst in the same realm as Nassau, and there didn’t seem to be any harm in admitting to himself that he was unhappy.

Kiorl passed from the hall of ancient carvings through a dim corridor full of blackened smoke and greasy torches, and let himself into a room which had probably once passed for Sathriel’s office. The room was dank, hot – because everywhere underground was hot – and damp. Very deliberately, Kiorl stepped forward, away from the dark walls which glistened almost exactly like old blood. Kiorl was sure they oozed, and did not touch them. Sathriel was still wearing his classical form, and was still naked, sitting in a low crouch beside the scrying pool, which was the main light source in the room. Kiorl was glad of his excellent night vision. The Devil showed no outward sign that he had heard Kiorl arrive, and was muttering to himself.

“… so many to choose…. This one. Hmmmm… maybe that one. This is damaged, shouldn’t use it. Where are the keepers...”

For a long moment, Kiorl considered fading into a handy shadow and vanishing from the Palace altogether. 

_But you are the right hand of the King. If he wants you, you go._

_Fuck it._

“Sire?”

Sathriel beckoned him forward without looking up, and Kiorl arrived beside his King and knelt, keeping his tail bound around his forearm. The scrying pool was a shallow dish of crystal, no more than a hands-depth thick, but big enough that Kiorl could have curled up to sleep within it. The water within was flat and glassy smooth, except for where Sathriel touched it, moving the view around with his fingers and causing ripples.

“Sire?” Kiorl repeated, half wishing he hadn’t.

“What would you look for in a new demon Kiorl?”

“Loyalty,” Kiorl replied instantly, then froze. It was never wise to speak too quickly, because it wasn’t always obvious if Sathriel wanted an answer, let alone a real one.

_And it’s not like you meant loyalty to him,_ his inner voice chirped.  _You’d choose Nassau in a heartbeat, every time._

“Hmmm...” Kiorl took the opportunity to look into the pool and saw that his King was viewing the pit, the place where new demons were forged, looking over the rank and file of half finished forms which simply needed awakening before they cold be coaxed and trained into fully functioning members of the Inner Circle. “Not rage? Or bloodlust?”

“Those can be taught, Majesty.”

Kiorl shivered involuntarily as he thought of the way Nassau’s eldest brother Nathaneal had been. Rage and bloodlust described him perfectly. Even in a good mood, the desire to destroy had always been foremost in his mind and personality. It would have been terrible if he had been the confirmed heir to the throne of Hell, rather than Nassau.

_I would have run away to live upstairs like Kiaza, rather than stay down in Hell with with as future king._

“Maybe so….” Sathriel appeared to consider his options, then touched a black clawed finger to his tongue, drawing blood before he gestured in the still waters of the scrying pool, marking two of the waiting vessels, letting his blood mix with theirs. Instantly, each staggered and shifted, their shapes becoming more solid, even as keepers began to ring them. “Fetch these two. I think they will make good demons.”

Kiorl cleared his throat.

“What department, Majesty?”

Sathriel turned and raked Kiorl with dark eyes. The panther fought the urge to shiver, and simply squeezed his tail tighter around his arm.

“I doubt you wish to train them, do you? No… you have another in mind?”

“The Hunter Jin-Ha? He is very talented in his arts, and very good at… explaining.” Kiorl chose not the mention the kitsune’s quiet, acerbic humour, or his beautiful melodic voice. Having him accompany Sitka’s lute had become a favourite pastime of the house.

“Very good. Send them to the Hunt office and see what becomes of them.”

“As you wish Sire.”

Kiorl made to bow and step back from the royal presence, but halted at a gesture. Sathriel stood, his shape changing as he did so, and Kiorl hid his wince as the Devil wrapped a thick, full prehensile, smooth skinned tail around his own. Already the appendage pulled too strongly at his furred tail to be comfortable, and Kiorl felt pain slither up his spine. The King of Hell in what Kiorl privately called his ‘medieval shape’ was not what the panther had been expecting to see. He was like a nightmare version of Sitka, huge cloven hoofs, rough fur, his horns somehow even thicker and more cruel as he smiled. Kiorl did not miss the hungry expression which crossed his face.

“Majesty.” Kiorl inclined his head by a fraction, just enough to show subservience. “Is there something I can do for you?”

The tail left his and stroked up his spine, coiling over his shoulder, the thick, rounded tip prodding once at his muzzle before sliding south. Sathriel looked annoyed, bored, rampantly horny, and fell back onto a couch of rough stone he had summoned from the floor. Kiorl did not move, and was glad the Devil was too far away now to touch him with his hands lest he peel back Kiorl’s lips to find his fangs clenched firmly closed. He’d had the damn thing in his mouth before was less than keen to repeat the experience. The tail coiled momentarily around his hips, but Kiorl did not find himself swept from his paws and brought close. Instead the fabric of his tabard was pressed flush against his crotch and thighs before his body was, mercifully, abandoned.

“Retrieve the new demons then.”

“Sire.”

The door opened before he reached it. A many-limbed attendant entered, bowing low, showing perfect duteousness to the King. Kiorl stepped round it, one ear flicking back to hear what his sovereign said as he left.

“Bring me a handful of the pretty ones….”

The description could have meant minor demons or drugged mortals, but Kiorl doubted that there would be any survivors of Sathriel’s current appetite. 

_Tobias was right._

Kiorl’s inner voice scoffed at him.

_How do those words feel coming out of your mouth, oh high and mighty major demon?_

_Like brimstone._ Kiorl rubbed his tongue along his fangs reflexively.  _But he is. There’s got to be an easier way to exist in both courts than this._

_You’d give up the favour of the King so easily?_

Kiorl glared at the smiling red figure in the frieze as he passed, and felt again the ache in so many muscles that pride was the only thing which made him walk straight.

_I’m not sure it counts as a favour any more._

*

Kiorl slid the portal token for the Pit onto a thong on his belt as he finished stepping out into the narrowest circle of the underworld. The stone under his paws fell away sharply, a pace away from where he stood, and Kiorl peered over the edge to see a keeper, head bent low, crooning to three short rows of wriggling lumps which looked not entirely unlike the substance Jahke had once asked Tobias make and called blancmange. Kiorl sneered, moved back and began to stalk the exceedingly narrow walkways which lead between each of the pits. Not all contained wobbly masses of potential, some were empty. But most were full of things which slithered and crawled, either in little circles, each magically tethered to their own spot in the row, or in writhing heaps, herded and tutted over by their keepers. Kiorl wondered why it was the portal never let him out at the pit where the most complete demons were being held, forcing him to circumnavigate the myriad of proto-demons on each of his infrequent visits. 

Eventually he arrived at the right pit, just as the keeper was clambering up and out towards him. Kiorl stopped the creature with a sharp gesture.

“Master Kiorl!” Keepers were the most docile and patient of all demons, they had to be, and this one bowed so deeply it’s head touched the ground near Kiorl’s paws, filled with deference for his status as an occupant of the Inner Circle.

“Are they finished?”

“Yes m’sire. I do hope you will find them quite pleasing.”

Kiorl did not bother to correct the keeper. The new demons had not been chosen by him or for him, but he did wonder if the keepers knew, or would be upset by, the fact that if the younglings turned out to be less than satisfactory they would be sent out to the reaping fields. If they were very rubbish, then they would simply be subsumed and reprocessed by the fire, but such failures were rare these days, now that selection was far more rigorous and Sathriel was more reserved with his blessing. Kiorl watched the keeper out of sight, then dropped down into the pit.

The two new demons were the only occupants of the dark, sheer sided space. One sat, looking small and pale in a manner not reflected by his excellent musculature, apparently counting the fingers on all four hands: the other stood, arms hanging by his knees, back curved and showing a row of bony protuberances which continued all the way to a sinew-wrapped skeletal tail. He looked rather like he would rather be walking on all fours, but didn’t know if that was allowed. Both brightened when they saw him, their desire for contact and need to please him evident in their eyes.

“Names?”

“Pulo, Sire.” The four armed boy replied.

“Orrhaag,” snarled the other one through a mouth thick with teeth.

_Ifrit’s Fire… at least we no longer have to teach them to talk. That was awful._

“Good enough. I am here to take you to training. Follow me.”

He could have used the portal stone from where they’d stood, but Kiorl disliked the pits and the trapped feeling they gave him. He hadn’t been made here after all, and the place always seemed too cold and too dark for his liking.

_And yet, you can see in the blackest night,_ his inner voice snarked.

_I’m not having this conversation with you._ Kiorl swung himself up to ground level once more and scowled.  _When did I start having such long conversations with myself?_

The pair of younglings followed him away from the pit, the only place they had ever known, and Kiorl wondered if all the new demons were so openly trusting.

_Perhaps you are only just noticing it?_

He took his portal stone from it’s pouch, holding it in a loose and uncommunicative grasp .The last thing he wanted was to have it read his desire to return home too quickly and end up stranding one or both the demons in the outer circles.

“We are going to the Inner Circle. Sathriel has blessed you, and so you shall receive the finest tutelage.”

“Will you train us, Sire?” Pulo asked, obviously hopeful.

“No. I do not have the time. And don’t call me that. Major demons can be addressed as ‘master’ along with their name, ‘Majesty’ is for the King, ‘Highness’ for the Prince… not that you’re likely to meet either of them yet.”

_Possibly ever._ Kiorl glanced sideways at the slightly dog-like demon with his bony features. Ghianda could visualize the abilities of other creatures, and Kiorl would have given anything for a moment to know what potential secrets these two were hiding. He had no doubts that Jin-Ha would winkle their skills out in time though. 

“We will travel by portal stone. One day you may both prove to be skilled and loyal enough to have your own. Come close now.”

They did as they were told. Kiorl knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, because along with their language skills, one of the few things each demon knew upon waking in the world was to please the Devil in whatever manner they could. Kiorl had told them he was taking them to the Inner Circle, and  so all that adoration was turned upon him.

_Soon enough they will learn to appreciate other distractions._ He shifted his weight, curling his tail tightly around OrrHaag’s long arm, and gestured for Pulo to move into his space. The youngling touched him without hesitation, all four hands pressing again his chest, abdomen, ribs… Kiorl bit back the sigh and the rising tide of lust which rose at the contact, and wondered if he had ever been so transparently naked.

“Sir-” Pulo stopped himself, and Kiorl was pleased he’d made the effort. “What do we call you?”

“Kiorl.”

“Thank you, master Kiorl.”

The panther bit back an intoxicating flood of raw lust and wished the youngling wasn’t standing quite so close, or possessed quite so many hands. It had been aeons since anyone had address him with such unguarded trust.

“Do not move away.” Kiorl held the portal stone in his free hand, the other gripping one of OrrHaag’s bone spines. “Do not get distracted. I shall show you through The Way, but you must not get lost. You’ll die.”

“You will protect us?” Even as they’d lingered, Orrhaag’s many teeth had rearranged themselves somewhat, and his voice was far clearer. There was a softness to his muzzle and brows now which served only to highlight the distressing angles of his bare bones.

“Yes. Come now, we should be quick.”

The portal stone glowed with the hot, familiar fire of the Inner Circle, and Kiorl thought hard of home, longing for another long bath, a game of cards or draughts, of Tobias’s excellent cooking

_Nassau hasn’t been by for dinner in a while, perhaps we could tempt him to join us…_

The Pit vanished abruptly, replaced by the endless twinkling stars of The Way. Kiorl felt both the younglings move with him as he turned toward the familiar path homewards, and he kept his grip on each secure as they approached the star which marked their destination. A heartbeat later, they stepped through the squat arch of the East Gate.

Pulo was pale and panting visibly, his chest shaking. OrrHaag stroked his back with long fingers, frowning, obviously concerned for the other demon’s welfare. Kiorl wondered if all the demons who came up together shared bonds as strong. Despite their mismatched appearances they might be more successful as a pair. Kiorl was glad he had requested Jin-Ha to train them both, because he wasn’t sure separating them just then was a particularly good idea.

“Come. You did well, you are here now. Let us take you to the Hunt office and see what your new teacher thinks of you.”

The pair of brand new demons followed him without question, and although Kiorl knew they would do anything he asked of them, and do it happily, he held himself back from touching either one with either his hands or his gift. They were sweet and trusting, but even Jahke had more verve and attitude than the younglings. Kiorl turned them over in Jin-Ha’s more than capable care, and headed gratefully home.

*

The fractionally older of the Asina brothers was lounging on a chaise in the Long Gallery, a hand of solitaire laid across the plush upholstery before him, a stack of painted bone and ivory counters to one side. He looked up with a smile as Kiorl approached.

“Kiorl, join me?”

“Tua...” Kiorl slowed, frowning. “Would it not be easier in The Games Room?”

The white-scaled man shrugged, his overly long tail lying still beside him.

“Eh, no one’s there either.”

“What?” Kiorl had been adjusting his belt; it was new, a broad expanse of beautifully tooled leather with intricate lacing and was a new style for him, and highlighted his natural shape in a way he enjoyed. His bright blue eyes flicked back to the other demon. “What do you mean, no one’s there? Court is in session.”

“Court _was_ in session,” Tua Asina explained, “The Prince dismissed everyone about an hour ago. He… he didn’t not seem happy.” Tua finished, diplomatically.

“Why did no one come and get me?” Kiorl felt the fur on the back of his neck prickle, tightness across his scalp following. Nassau had become angry enough to send home his council, but he hadn’t thought anything in Kiorl’s direction, and the panther suddenly hated the fact his friend could hide so well from him.

“Bir went to the Cavern to find you, reported back that you hadn’t been seen, then he headed home. The King was holding high court and everything apparently, figured that’s where you’d be, _Right Hand_.”

Kiorl used his tail to sweep Tua’s game pieces to the floor with a snarl.

“Call me that to my face again and I’ll use your hide to reupholster the chair you’re on. Got it?”

“Yes, master Kiorl.” The other major demon had the good sense to keep his eyes on the floor as he spoke. “Where should we look for you, if the need arises?”

“Send word to Zinkara Rumah.” 

“You keep schedule with your minors?” Tua sounded shocked. Kiorl hissed at him.

“Fuck off Asina. It is not your concern how I spend my time.”

Kiorl stalked to the far end of the Long Gallery, and once out of sight, broke into a jog which turned into a run, and made directly for Nassau’s apartments.

_Nassau needed me and I wasn’t fucking there!_

_He’ll think you were with his Father and wouldn’t want to disturb you._

Kiorl laughed bitterly at himself.

_And instead I was hiding out in my room hoping Sathriel hadn’t sent a messenger to locate me, and yet dreading he wouldn’t notice my absence._

Kiorl knew his housemates had picked up on his stress, and even the usually mirthsome Shindae had given him a wide berth in recent tendays. Kiorl knew it would only be a matter of time before Sathriel chose a new favourite, and everyone would know he had slipped from the Devil’s favour. He hadn’t done anything as bold as inform the King he no longer wished to share his bed, but he had spent the last session of high court in conversation with others, never passing near enough to the throne to be called to approach, and he had flat out ignored two serpent messengers on separate occasions. Sathriel could be thick headed, but there was no way he was going to fail to notice Kiorl’s continued lack of appearance in his chambers.

He let himself quietly into Nassau’s apartments, but didn’t bother checking the study or any other rooms before ascending the final stairs to Nassau’s bedchamber. The doors were closed, though not locked, and Kiorl pushed them open by degrees, dreading what he might find.

The room was a mess of smashed timber, broken stone, ripped fabrics, and floating feathers though the latter were small, soft and white, and clearly from the ruined mess of cushions. The intricate fretwork doors of Nassau’s cabinet hung from their hinges, one partly smashed, and Kiorl stilled suddenly, more worried for his friend than he had been in many years. In the centre of what had been Nassau’s bed ever since his return to Hell before the Ascension, the Prince of Hell was curled within the shield of his wings. Carefully, keeping every moment as slow and soft as he could, Kiorl parted the wall of bronze feathers and offered a small smile to the red-rimmed gaze he found within.

“Hey Nas…” Kiorl allowed his fingers to ghost across the Prince’s jaw and down his shoulder. Nassau sat hunched over the marble bust of his lover in his lap, his knuckles as white as the stone. “You want to let go of that now?”

Nassau Del Rae shook his head, his ever perfect hair sliding across his brow and twisting about his throat, keeping him from view. Kiorl sat, kneeling before him in the mess of the ruined bed, and laid his hands open between them.

“C’mon Nas, come to me.”

_Whatever has passed is over._ The panther directed his thoughts as clearly as he could. _It is done, but I am here. I am safe. Come. Let me look after you._

By degrees, Nassau reached for him and took his hand. Kiorl waited. So slowly it was like trying to watch a plant grow, Nassau let go of the likeness of the man he had once loved, and moved into Kiorl’s lap. Once he had his arms around the Prince, the panther stood. Nassau buried his face into Kiorl’s padded jupon and said nothing, offering no explanation for what had transpired, and Kiorl simply turned and carried him from the apartments, down a single flight of short stairs to his suite. 

He laid the Prince out on his bed, relieved that Nassau did not simply wrap himself within his wings once more, and watched as Nassau took long, shuddering breaths, and stared at nothing. He was clearly all cried out. Kiorl stripped Nassau of his ruined clothing with careful and efficient movements, conscious not to let his fingers or gaze linger on the thread of ever-hot fire which burnt within the Prince’s skin, running from jaw to wrist, spreading and coiling across his narrow chest. Sometimes it was hard to remember what Nassau had looked like without it, and sometimes it was impossible to look, and not be horribly reminded of the last pure expression on the young Prince’s face before his world had ended and his skin become marred with the evidence.

Kiorl knelt upon the bed, and slotted himself carefully into the space between Nassau’s wings, arms sliding about his chest, wrapping over him and holding him firm. Nassau’s yard long hair coiled itself into a rope, the thick hank wrapping itself around Kiorl’s forearm, anchoring them together. For a long time, neither gave any indication of movement, and Kiorl simply lay and observed silently as his friend’s breathing softened to match his own. Finally Nassau let loose a long exhale, and his muscles lax under Kiorl’s grip, the panther allowed himself a very small, nearly private smile.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

Nassau nodded mutely.

“I can see about clean-up tomorrow.” He paused, ears flicking back in concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Nassau sounded petulant and young, but his voice did not hold the quiver of indisputable power which would not have allowed Kiorl to push the subject.

“Don’t you think perhaps you should?”

_You’re a fine one to talk Ki. When was the last time you had an honest conversation?_

_Hey, we’re not talking about me. My bed is still in one piece._

To his surprise, Nassau sobbed openly, breath catching in his chest. Kiorl soothed a warm palm across his sternum, worried.

“I broke the bed,” he whimpered unhappily.

“Everything in the ‘verse can be made anew,” Kiorl assured him. “Or I’ll get the boys to bring you something from Upstairs?”

“No.” Nassau turned to press his face into Kiorl’s arm where it was pinned between himself and the mattress. Through his fur, Kiorl could feel the wetness of his sovereign’s tears. “That was Mattias’ bed.”

“Oh...”

_I promised him one we could never break._ The words arrived with a flood of blurred memories, not one of them lingering long enough for Kiorl to witness more than the man’s face; his deep, honest laugh; the warmth which had blossomed within Nassau every time he’d smiled.  _It hasn’t smelt like him for so long… but I- we had lain there together. And now it is gone._

_Nas…_

Kiorl knew how long his friend had been without the man he loved, and knew better than most how much he missed him, but the ache he felt echoing through Nassau was so awful… had he been even a fraction less loyal to the Prince, he would have let go, because the pain which shimmered through the connection of their skin set an ache inside him Kiorl was not sure he would be able to shift. But no one was more stubborn than Kiorl, and he stayed, breathing in time with Nassau, until the feeling muted enough to allow for other thoughts to surface.

Nassau spoke first, and Kiorl instantly wished he had broken the silence instead.

“You are not going to Father’s chambers.” It was not a question.

“I can be his advisor without sharing his bed.”

“Can you?”

“Nas...” Kiorl couldn’t keep the snarl from his tone, but he stopped himself with a snort. “I haven’t actually told him.”

_You decided to just… tactically ignore direct missives from the King? Oh my great friend, you are the bravest man I know._

“Ha… thanks for the faith.”

“If anyone can do it...” Nassau pressed a hand over his own, the line of fire scored into his palm a heated reminder of the pain which caused the pair of them to be huddled up together in Kiorl’s suite. Nassau twisted in the panther’s arms and tilted his face to press a chaste kiss against the dark muzzle. “Stay here with me, Ki?”

“Always.” Kiorl allowed his hand to slide of Nassau’s shoulder to his waist, then his hip, and he made a sound of soft surprise as Nassau angled into his touch.

_Remind me that I was loved once?_

“Nas....” 

Kiorl splayed a hand over the curve of Nassau’s arse, bringing him flush against his roused length, and inhaled the sweet, exotic floral scent of his hair. He knew what he was being asked, a wordless favour the Prince of Hell could never admit to another living soul, and Kiorl knew it would not be his name Nassau keened when he brought his friend to the point of climax. He did not mind, because it was Nassau, and Kiorl’s loyalty to his friend knew no bounds. 

“You are loved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kiorl has a teaching moment

Kiorl wafted through the Hunt department’s main office, shedding dried blood and ash with each motion as he dumped a collection of filled reliquaries on the nearest desk, snarling a wordless instruction to the demon who sat there. The figure began to fill out paperwork for him, and Kiorl stalked over to the bin which held used soul tokens, ready to be cleaned and re-filed. He emptied his many pockets, finding much more ash and gritty debris within, and promised himself not to return to any of the flame-covered worlds anytime soon. None of them were ever as interesting as the first he and Nassau had found back when they were young.

Kiorl stared at his broken reflection in the nearest mirror for slightly too long to be comfortable, then flinched away. He was not alone in the offices, and so refilled his collection of soul carrying vessels to cover his overly-long linger, and began to weave a complicated braid into one section of his hair as he exited out into the hot, dead air of the Inner Circle.

‘ _You should wear beads in your braids Ki.’_

_Kiorl had laughed, turning his head so that the boy could start another many-stranded weave behind his other ear. Ever since he’d shown up at their new house with his mane in a plait – for no other reason than to keep it out of the way whilst he had committed wholesale slaughter Upstairs – Kiaza had been eagerly creating more and more complex designs for him to wear it in. Kiorl didn’t mind, because Kiaza’s smooth scales were soft and cool against his fur, and his deft fingers petted soothingly._

‘ _And where would I find beads, Kiaza?’_

‘ _We could get them Upstairs? Your hair is so dark… they’d look like stars.’_

_Kiorl jerked forward._

_You want me to look like I just stepped out of The Way and wasn’t careful about it?’_

‘ _Oh Ki!’_

_Kiorl hadn’t cared for the plait which had fallen from Kiaza’s hands, unravelling as it went, because he’d been much more concerned with pinning the serpent back against his bed and taking him apart with his tongue._

“Good evening Kiorl.” Jin-Ha stood at the narrowing of the path where it split from others and headed into the ravine which lead home. No one uninvited would ever step that way, and Kiorl allowed himself a smile.

“Hey. Good day?”

“Seeing as the whole department is aflutter with your latest Hunting stats, it’d say you’re having the good day. You’ve many new admirers.”

Kiorl shrugged: it was not surprising.

“Flames, you’re a complacent bastard Kiorl.” The little kitsune’s slender muzzle cracked in a wicked grin. “But it does suit you so.”

“Thanks.” Kiorl rolled his shoulders as they found themselves approaching the open doorway of Zinkara Rumah. “See you at dinner?”

“Kiorl-” Jin-Ha stopped him with a paw on his elbow. “A serpent came for you today.”

“Oh?”

“I told it you were Upstairs.”

“Oh.” Kiorl folded back his ears, eyes narrow. “Thanks.”

“I know better than to ask if you wish to talk.” The kitsune inclined his head respectfully, and Kiorl was reminded why he’d allowed the fox to join their house in the first place. He knew his place perfectly. “But you are terribly tense, my lord. I bid you join me for a rest before supper?”

Kiorl hesitated, and this time he felt it when Nassau slipped into the space between his ears.

_Go. It will do you good, old friend._

_Eavesdrop much, Nas?_ But the jab with without feeling. It had been so long since Nassau had learnt to selectively listen in on his thoughts, that Kiorl honestly couldn’t remember what it was like to keep anything from his Prince.

_Jin-Ha does not gossip, and he has no designs on your position._ Nassau’s concern was evident in the tone of his thoughts.  _Go relax._

“Alright.”

Jin-Ha had decorated his room with thin bamboo mats, a painted paper screen which divided the space, and a bed Kiorl knew was a futon, which he unrolled from its resting position against one wall.

“Tea?”

Kiorl waved the kitsune’s offer away with one hand, and divested himself of his outer garments before he sat on the stuffed cotton mattress. It felt strange to be on the floor.

“You’ve certainly left your mark on the place.”

“I don’t know how you all stand those ridiculous dish-shaped beds!” Jin-Ha’s laugh was vibrant and sparkling, and Kiorl made himself remember that the fox demon was an orator: impossible not to listen to. “They’re so bad for your back.”

“Tradition,” Kiorl shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, you are a cat,” the kitsune managed to sound only faintly disapproving, “I never credited you with an overabundance of taste.”

“Hey-!”

“Lie back, oh major demon of this house. Let someone attend you for a change.”

It was easy to just go along with Jin-Ha’s suggestion, and Kiorl yawned hugely and stretched his arms over his head causing his spine to crack loudly enough to make his tail tip to twitch in sympathy. He rolled over when prompted, assisting the fox to divest him of his shirt, and hissed when the kitsune pressed firm fingers into the muscles of his lower back.

“Ow!”

“Gods and Mountains… it’s wonder you can even get up in the morning, Kiorl.”

“Sheer force of will,” the panther sniped automatically.

“I don’t doubt it.” 

Small, confident hands returned and began to knead the hard knots of muscle in his back. Kiorl wrapped his tail around his thigh, and let himself be ministered to. It was pleasant, easy, and the panther found he didn’t mind the purr which rumbled low in his chest as he was massaged. He was a tactile creature after all, and it seemed to have been a very long time since he’d been on the receiving end of this kind of attention.

“I know you don’t like to talk, but perhaps you will listen?”

Kiorl grunted wordlessly in response, too relaxed to want to form an actual reply. The tip of his tail twitched, and Kiorl was grateful to be laying on it and so not risk smacking Jin-Ha in the face.

“I dare say you will think me too forward, despite being fully clothed, but even for a major demon you strike me as particularly alone, Kiorl. I know that unlike the rest of us you can count the Prince as a true and certain friend, but one cannot seek to receive all that they need from one person alone.”

“Works for Tobias...” Kiorl grumbled indistinctly.

“Very specific kinds of masochism work for Tobias too,” Jin-Ha replied without pause. “And I heard plenty of accounts of your fight with Zai a few years back, so I don’t think you share that particular proclivity.” Quick, adroit fingers pushed in hard just below the point of his shoulder blade, but before Kiorl could growl the tension cracked and he exhaled a groan instead. “You are a powerful demon Kiorl, very powerful. And everyone knows it. There is not a demon in the Inner Circle who would not do your bidding on a word.”

“I do not need you to stroke my ego along with my spine.”

“Indeed.” Sharp knuckles dug into the meat either side of his lower vertebrae and Kiorl bruised his thigh with the coil of his tail. “How long has it been since you took a lover for no other reason than to enjoy their company? And no-” Jin-Ha cut him off as he opened his muzzle, “-Jahke doesn’t count.”

Kiorl wished he could bite back the whine which escaped his throat, but Jin-Ha did not act as though he’d heard. 

“Well?”

Kiorl stalled, turned his face to the other side, saw the kitsune watching him with bright-eyed concern, and turned back, settling himself firmly into the futon mattress.

“Not since before the Second Rebellion.”

“Oh Kiorl...”

“Do not pity me!” Fangs flashed brightly as his hackles rose.

“It is not pity to care for a respected friend,”Jin-Ha said, his voice almost as soft as Nassau was in a quiet mood. “But it is a long time to be alone.”

Kiorl closed his eyes, and thought of the room which lay across the hall, empty and cold, the hearth dark for more than a century.

_I wouldn’t be alone if Kiaza hadn’t fucked up so spectacularly._

_But Nassau would still be the way he is, things will never be like they were before._

_Still…._ Kiorl pictured Nassau’s smile, a bright, mischievous, lingering thing directed his way over games of Fourchess, suppers eaten whilst lounging upon cushions, across the sands of the Cavern in the days when they had used it as their training ground. _I haven’t seen that smile in several lifetimes._

_I doubt you ever will again,_ his inner voice replied regretfully.

_And Jin-Ha thinks I am the lonely one._

“Kiorl?”

It took a long moment for the panther to realise his companion had stopped his massage and was knelling back, thick tail curled around his lap, an expression of gracious curiosity on his face.

“Thank you Jin-Ha, I feel much restored.” Kiorl rose gracefully, because he was a cat, and because power and poise were all he had. He bowed to the kitsune. “It was a pleasure to relax in your fine company. I’ll see you at dinner.”

The rigour of etiquette made Jin-Ha swallow the reply Kiorl was certain he had been forming, and the fox inclined his head respectfully. Kiorl did not check to see whether or not he was watched as he left the room.

The door was closed, but the bathroom was, mercifully, empty. Kiorl used a glyph to lock the door behind him, and sat on the edge of the bathpool, waiting for it to fill. It did not take long, and soon he sank into the deep, hot water.

_I will never live anywhere without plumbing._

He closed his eyes. His long hair, grown out again partially at the King’s request, escaped it’s braid and floated around and above him as he sank into the water. He thought of the scene at court the previous tenday, before he had made his hasty departure. Another major demon had stood upon the dais of the King’s throne, head bent low as he spoke in a private rumble. The whispers had abounded the Cavern; the King had had her more than once already, and they had arrived together from elsewhere in the Palace. There was a new favourite, and Kiorl had been replaced. Honestly he was surprised it had taken as long it had: major demons were nothing if not ambitious. 

_You’d better not be drowning yourself in there Ki._

_Hi Nas._ Kiorl surfaced, half hoping to see his friend present in the bathroom of his house, but unsurprised to find he was still alone.  _Don’t you know? Cats actually love water._

_So you have said._

_Ha! Just because you can’t swim._

_I can so swim._ Nassau sounded rather petulant, Kiorl couldn’t help but reach out towards the presence of the Prince with a warm smile.  _Actually I was wondering if you wanted to come Upstairs with me._

_Will there be alcohol?_

_Does a dragon shit in the snow?_

Miles apart across the inner circle, both demons laughed.

_Alright, I’ll meet you at the West Gate. Just give me ten minutes to get dressed._ Kiorl hauled himself from the water, shaking messily before reaching toward a stack of fluffy towels.  _You know, we really should get a bar down here._

_Pfft! Someone would have to run it, easier to just go Upstairs._

_Hunting and booze._ Kiorl grinned broadly.  _Alright then, lets go be evil._

_*_

“Take it up with the King,” Kiorl snapped as soon as Ghianda had finished explaining the problem. “He chose them, they can be his problem.”

“We cannot bother his Majesty with this.” Ghianda’s glare was accusatory, and Kiorl did not like so bold an expression on any demon inferior to him. “The King has been in a sour mood of late.”

And he’s blaming me for that. Kiorl thought viciously. I am not destroying myself to keep Sathriel and everyone else happy.

He growled low, wordless and threatening, until Ghianda looked away guilty, knowing he had overstepped the mark. Kiorl sighed, and wished this wasn’t an issue he had to deal with.

The panther pictured the Prince of Hell, his oldest and dearest friend, reclining on his expansive plush mattress in the same state Kiorl had last left him in: naked, flushed, fucked, and thoroughly debauched. With a sly grin, he sent the image in the direction within his mind he most associated with Nassau, and only had to wait two breaths for the Prince to slide into his head with a hum of concentration.

_Am I disturbing you, Nas?_

_No. I am also playing mah-jong with Fan He Ling._

_Huh?_ Kiorl frowned, because Fan He Ling was a major demon of Sathriel’s court, and there was no way Nassau was holding court with his father without Kiorl’s presence.

 _Father went upstairs and I met half his courtiers milling around in the Long Gallery. Don’t fret Kiorl._ Nassau’s words were awash with a cool balm to soothe Kiorl’s snap-fast anxiety. _It’s just a social moment, nothing heavy._

_If you say so…_

_I do say so. What’s up, old friend?_

Kiorl turned his physical attention back to the demon who stood before him, looking unhappy and shuffling from foot to foot uneasily.

_Can you explain why I’m having to deal with this nonsense?_

Nassau took only a moment to infiltrate the mind of the other demon – and Ghianda probably wouldn’t be aware it was even happening unless Nassau decided to speak to him – and understand the situation at hand. When Kiorl felt him fully return, Nassau’s presence bubbled with laughter.

_Kiorl, my darling panther, is this absolutely your problem to deal with._

_But why?_ Kiorl whined.

_Because you’re so proud of being the most senior major demon in Hell, and because you’re the best Hunter there is._

Kiorl preened silently.

_I remember you putting in the effort in order to be so. Nassau continued. And now you have responsibilities._

_Can’t you deal with him?_ Kiorl asked, knowing his thoughts held a plaintive whine he would have never vocally expressed.

 _Below my pay grade, darling. Go deal with your errant staff and come join me for supper later?_ Nassau’s words rung with warm promise, and Kiorl could practically feel the hand which would smooth down his spine, fingernails dragging through his pelt. _Please?_

_Anything for you Nas._

Nassau slid from his mind with a brief, departing touch of pleasure, and Kiorl dragged his teeth over his fangs as he looked at the other major demon. Nassau was right – of course he was right – and the problems the other Hunters had all eventually had to filter up to Kiorl because was the eldest, the most talented, and the most dangerous of them. He snapped his fangs together, and had the pleasure of watching Ghianda startle.

“And where is Jin-Ha? He is their tutor is he not?”

Ghianda bowed low before he spoke, clearly hoping that reverence was going to put him into Kiorl’s good graces.

“He is Upstairs. One of his favoured worlds suffered a natural disaster of some type and he needed to put in an appearance at one of his temples. Many others have gone on similar errands, it seems a whole segment of the Earths on that wheel have been affected.”

“I will never understand his, or anyone else’s, attachment to temples.” Kiorl flicked an ear back into his braids and forced his tail to still it’s swishing with conscious effort. Why other demons cared about what humans thought of them was a source of constant puzzlement, even more so than why some demons decided to mate with them. Kiorl shuddered. “This is not my problem Ghianda.”

_I don’t care if Nas says it is, I can still negotiate._

“Master Kiorl, you are the most senior of-”

Kiorl cut him off with a snarl: he did not need to listen to Ghianda repeating himself.

“You’ve come here owing me after a bet, and now you want _another_ favour when I’ve yet to collect on what you already promised?”

Ghianda made a supplicating gesture with all six hands, head bowing so low that his flat face nearly touched the ground. Ghianda might have been a major demon, powerful in his own right and controlling a household which on the outside at least was not too dissimilar from Kiorl’s, but he didn’t want to risk rousing the anger of the great panther.

“I am deeply sorry, oh master, that your desires have not been fulfilled. What may I, or any of my minor demons, do for you?”

Kiorl considered the offer for a long moment, hand lingering on the pommel of his long white-bladed kukri, then he smiled, fangs bright.

“Do you still live with that Caretaker? The one with the horns?”

“Shax?” Ghianda looked surprised. “Yes sir. But, my lord, he prefers-”

“I could give two shits what he _prefers_ ,” Kiorl snapped. “And if I wanted to fuck him I certainly wouldn’t need a favour from you to do so. I want him to grow something for me.”

“Master Kiorl?”

Kiorl nodded to himself, pleased. The sorts of things Shax could grow with the bones he collected might be enough to return Sathriel’s favour to him, without Kiorl having to revisit the King’s bedchamber. It would take years, but Kiorl had plenty of time.

“Have him come and see me at the Palace.”

“Yes master Kiorl.”

“Now, where are these younglings you want me to look after?”

*

Kiorl found the pair of mismatched demons in the training yard, just where Ghianda had left them, both sat on the ground in the midst of their discarded armour pieces and weapons, playing a children’s game of coloured glass spheres. He was pleased to have taken the time to change into full leathers before arriving, and despite the noise of his approach, neither demon looked up until Kiorl had a blade drawn against each of their throats. The blue-skinned, four-armed one gulped audibly, eyes wide and obviously scared, whilst his partner with the many teeth and exposed cheek bones whimpered.

_Fucking whimpered. Ye gods, why am I wasting my time with this?_

“Get up.” Kiorl snarled, sheathing both blades with quick, efficient movements as the two demons scrambled to their feet, heads hung low. “Not everyone likes demons, and you certainly shouldn’t be here,” he gestured to the training grounds, “so unaware of your surroundings that you do not notice or care who approaches you.”

“Sorry master.”

Kiorl backhanded the boy across the face before he’d even finished apologising.

“And what use it that after the fact?” he thundered. “Everyone here is more senior and more important than you! The King of Hell himself could have strode across the sands and you wouldn’t have noticed. And he wouldn’t be threatening you, you’d just be dead!” Kiorl roared at the pair of cowering younglings, a wordless noise of rage. “And stop fucking snivelling! You’re demons of the Inner Circle. Stand the fuck up and act like it!”

Kiorl turned away from the pair, scooped up their abandoned equipment, and fairly threw their weapons at them.

“You’ve been being babysat up until now, that’s why I gave you to Jin-Ha – because he’ll be nice to you – but most of the worlds out there are dangerous, not every soul is easy to take and the best ones fight back.” Kiorl drew the short knife he kept at the small of his back and switched it into a backhanded grip. “Let’s see what you’ve learned.”

“B-but...” the toothy one, Orrhaag, and once again Kiorl was thankful for his detailed and efficient memory, stuttered nervously. “Y-y-you’re a major demon. Sir…. We can’t fight you.”

“Yes you fucking can. Stance!”

Nothing about the fight was worth remembering, except for how hesitant the young demons were to commit to their actions. Kiorl barely had to counter, just twisted and slid away from their attacks, bringing up his knife each time to somewhere soft and sensitive, drawing blood in tiny pricks and slivers barely more than scratches. It didn’t take long for him to sigh, step back, and sheath his knife again.

“Both appalling, but passable as long as you don’t have to face anyone who knows what they’re doing. Come on.”

The two demons trailed him as they left the training ground and the complex of the Hunter and Enforcer offices, Requisitions, and Stores, heading down the slope of the hill toward the path which lead first to the West Gate, and further on, Kiorl’s preferred entrance to the Palace. Kiorl knew exactly where he would rather be headed, but he took the turning to the portal and returned Inai’s welcoming smile.

“Kiorl.” The big naga bowed respectfully and held out a massive, clawed hand ready for the token. “Off somewhere fun? And I see you have interesting company today.”

Kiorl rolled his eyes, but relaxed in his housemate’s presence.

“Potential new Hunters. They’re Jin-Ha’s students.”

“But he’s Upstairs and you got stuck with them.” Inai filled in with a flick of his forked tongue.

“Terrible gossip you might be Inai, but you do keep your ear to the ground.” Kiorl scanned the Naga’s smooth scaled head. “I mean, if you had ears. Any other fun tidbits for me?”

“Bir Asina came back through the Gate about two hours ago with some dark-skinned mortal pet, and Tua looked really pissed off about it.” Inai shrugged. “Came from some fringe Earth with magic which had a salamander problem sometime last century.”

Kiorl frowned, tail flicking.

“He brought a _pet_ through the West Gate?”

“Maybe he’s gonna recruit?” Inai offered diplomatically.

“Fuck I hope not. No one in the Circle is less qualified to recruit, not even you.” Kiorl made a mental note to stalk the pale, scaly demon down upon his return and give him a thorough tongue lashing for using the most important of the four portals to bring home his toys. He pressed his ears back briefly, then handed his token over to Inai. “You’ll keep an eye out for any other interesting happenings for me, won’t you Inai?”

“Of course m’lord.” Inai gave his very best deferential bow, and Kiorl could tell the obeisance from one so broad and imposing as the naga impressed the two younglings. Inai began to spin the wheels of the dial with smooth, well practised gestures. “Will that be all, master Kiorl?”

“Tell Tobias I should be back for dinner,” he cast a withering glance at the mismatched pair. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Moving through The Way took longer than it should have, what with three of Pulo’s hands on his shoulders and waist, the blue-skinned boy holding fast to his dog-like companion with the fourth, even whilst Kiorl wound his tail with the Orrhaag’s exposed tail bones. On the return journey Kiorl made a mental note to make them do it without physical contact, because at some point the new demons would need to navigate without a safety net.

They arrived into the early evening of a busy city, tucked into the darkest corner of a narrow side street down which no-one would have a need to be travelling. Beyond there were lights, bursts of multicoloured flame from some enchanter’s streetside show, and the smells of roasting meats and hot wine. Kiorl grinned – bright and evil – as the underdressed Pulo shivered: he always loved a winter a somewhere. For no other reason than he could, Kiorl rubbed his hands together in a complex pattern, and drew them apart slowly as a whorl of free-floating flame shimmered into existence between his palms. It had been one of the first spells he’d learnt, and the very first he’d taught to a bright eyed Kiaza what felt like aeons ago.

‘ _If you can make your own fire, then you won’t always need me to keep you warm.’_

‘ _You don’t want to be with me?’ Kiaza’s brilliant eyes were plaintive and shimmering._

‘ _Don’t be silly little one.’ Kiorl tucked the snake into his side, an arm tight around his waist. ‘I’ll always be here.’_

Kiorl extinguished his flame: it was far easier to use magic on a world where thaumaturgic energy was naturally abundant, but it was a waste of time and talents nonetheless. Instead he closed his eyes, opened them twice, and smiled as both demon did the same without being told. The lights of the city beyond faded, becoming mere pale things, more ghosts of themselves than actual images, and instead all the demon’s visual attention was turned to the souls within the bodies of the people who milled – shouting, talking, laughing, singing – along the street. Each one was blissfully unaware of the danger which lurked in the alley.

“Pulo, what is your skill?” he asked genially, eyes scanning for bright points, stronger souls which might be harvested for more energy.

“I can alter an individual's perception of time. Make minutes seem like-”

“I do not require a full explanation boy, I am not an idiot.” Kiorl snapped. “Only an individual's?”

Pulo shifted, cheeks flushing with hot embarrassment.

“I-I have not had much success casting wider nets as of yet master Kiorl.”

“Indeed. We’ll come back to that.” He turned to the other demon. “What about you?”

Orrhaag grunted what might have been a smile, but when he opened his jaws, his jaws opened more than once and in several directions. Kiorl stared at the horrific vision of so many pointy teeth, red gums, saliva slicked jowls, and nodded happily. Moments of sheer and complete terror were always good for separating a soul from it’s moorings, especially if the youngling was slow with a blade.

“That’s very nice. Well done.”

“I can do my hands as well,” came the very gargled reply from somewhere in the centre of the mesh of teeth and tongues.

“Excellent. Save it for the real thing. Now, let’s find us a victim.”

The danger of a magical world was that there was the high possibility of running into a native mortal who knew how to use thaumaturgic energy and could therefore not only defend themselves, but also wouldn’t be subject to the human brain’s usual insistence on not seeing things it wasn’t comfortable with. On a non-magical Earth, Kiorl could have strolled down any street he liked in broad daylight and everyone would have ignored him. The very perceptive might have seen an unusually large black cat, or sometimes a lean dark-skinned man, but most would simply fail to recognise his existence, their brains refusing to accept the presence of something so _other_. But this was not one of those worlds, and so much more careful stalking was required, because in a land where sorcerers performed street magic, no glamour disguise would be completely fool proof.

Kiorl swarmed up a sheer wall as easily as anyone else might saunter down the street and crouched, a black cut out against the dark sky, overlooking the scene below. The lights had made it appear more packed than it really was, and though there was much more hubbub even one street over, the space below him was population with a moving flow of people of exactly the right density to make a good teaching moment. Kiorl smiled as he was, finally, joined by the other two demons.

“Tell me what you see.”

“Souls,” slobbered Orrhaag, and Kiorl smacked him with the back of his hand for his idiocy.

“Potential victims,” Pulo offered, but followed up quickly, “some more useful than others. That one, the magic user-” the soul he gestured to shone far brighter than those around it, “-is very strong, but it could be problematic. That group is better.”

Kiorl had already spotted the collection of people, walking close together, near the entrance to their alleyway, but he turned his attention there now with deliberate gestures of his ears and tail.

“Go on.”

“Strong, closely tied, but distracted. Not very aware of their surroundings.”

“Very good. Shall we have them then?” Kiorl flexed his fingers where his hands hung between his knees, and shot a smile at the four-armed boy. Pulo flushed in an attractive manner, obviously pleased to have received such direct praise. “Show me how you make your net?”

Whilst both younglings might have been good with their second sight, it was obvious that Pulo hadn’t spent long enough focusing on exactly what he was doing when he used his natural gifted talent. His gestures were clumsy and rushed.

_Even though he has four hands to do what I can manage with only one on a good day._

Kiorl rolled his eyes and swiped through the half assembled pattern with his tail.

“Learn,” he commanded.

Weaving the strands of his cloak of seduction was a talent so old and well practised, that Kiorl knew he could accomplish it without conscious thought. It was why he so often had the web ready the moment he stepped from The Way into whatever world he’d chosen, because the strands had woven themselves between the fingers of his mind with just the knowledge of Upstairs. Now he did it deliberately slowly, holding the edge of the cloak in his fangs whilst he drew strands of his natural power – dark, edged with an icy shimmer which made them swim in and out of focus in his inner vision – with his free hand until he had a heavy, fluid mesh which flowed like warm molasses in his fingers. Kiorl waited, barely breathing, as the farthest outlier of the group below turned and circled back to their friends, and then he cast the net with a flick of his wrist, and the cloak of seduction spread wide as it flew, dropping around the humans in a stifling weight of sudden and inescapable arousal. Kiorl purred.

“Sir… that was amazing.”

“Thank you. Majesty taught me himself.” Kiorl couldn’t help the soft boast and the memory of the King, so fond of his youngest son’s playmate, showing him how to throw the power from his fingers, even as Nassau and his next eldest brother had stood on the cavern sands, their argument hushed as Kiorl’s power fell on them. Kiorl pulled himself out of his head and motioned to the younglings. “Go wait down there for me, I shall fetch them.”

He didn’t have to physically move the captives, just returned to the ground, stood in sight and reeled the seduction closer with a rake of his eyes. They came willingly, seeing him without their brains being able to comprehend what it might mean for them to follow him. Orrhaag and Pulo watched the group move into the quiet little side-street with undisguised interest and jealousy.

“Pick one each. Choose wisely.”

Orrhaag clearly choose the human Pulo had been heartbeats from picking out, a burly, dark-skinned man a head taller than Kiorl, with a soul like fire caged inside glass. Pulo glared at his friend, then took his time circling the remaining humans until he choose a slender and willowy woman with extremely long hair, guiding her by the hand to stand with Orrhaag’s choice. Her soul was solid and well-shaped, more like ice than smoke. It was a good pick. As soon as they were close, the influence of Kiorl’s cloak of seduction became obvious, and the three demons watched the two humans explore each other, eyes unseeing.

“Now cast your net Pulo.”

The boy was a quick study and wove his power well, though Kiorl felt that his use of all twenty fingers was actually hindering his progress and made a mental note to talk to Jin-Ha about it. For the pair of chosen victims, time slowed.

“I assume you can speed it up, too?”

Pulo nodded carefully, still keeping his attention on his power.

“Well then, you boys know how to collect correctly?”

“Yes master.”

“Yes sir.”

Kiorl handed them each a reliquary and stepped back.

“Go do your thing. I won’t be far.”

It was hard to see exactly what was happening within the bubble of manipulated time. Pulo’s power bent the light so that what was passing as minutes for Kiorl, was hours upon hours for those within. Orrhaag had grown extra teeth, and his massive, long fingered hands were now massive, long tongued mouths, and there was a plenty of screaming and begging from the humans, which seemed very promising indeed.

Kiorl reeled in his cloak of seduction one thread at a time, and as each of the humans became aware of him, he killed them with his short belt knife. He dumped the bodies unceremoniously in a stack against one wall of the street, and turned back to his students just in time to hear the rare and unmistakable sound of a reliquary cracking as Pulo’s bubble of distortion faded.

“You idiot!” Pulo snapped at his friend, trying, and mostly failing, to catch the leaking soul in his cupped palms.

“It’s not my fault. Fucking fiddly things.” Orrhaag’s voice was angry and clear, despite his extra teeth and tongues. “You realise how hard it is to hold these things with fangs?”

“I told you you should have only mutated one hand.” Pulo shot back. “Shit- oh, master Kiorl. I’m so sorry sir...”

Kiorl cast his glare over the unharmed but dead bodies of the two humans, fallen together in a heap; the four armed boy with two hands dribbling fresh liquid wasted soul, another holding his own full reliquary with care and attention; Orrhaag with the cracked crystal container in one mouth which was quickly becoming a hand. He caught the broken reliquary just as Orrhaag dropped it, and brought his fist down on top of the demon’s skull.

“Second most precious resource in the Inner Circle, apart from water, and you tried to throw it away?”

“Nnnn… but ‘s broken.” Orrhaag rumbled, rubing his head as his many extra fangs and mouths began to morph back into his natural skin.

Kiorl waited until the youngling was entirely whole, then grabbed him by the jaw.

“You’re skills and attitude is sorely lacking, boy. You need to grow some balls to go with those many teeth of yours if you’re to make a real Hunter someday.” The panther narrow his eyes. “Punishment for losing your captured soul and breaking the reliquary...”

Kiorl reached into the demon’s mouth – his real mouth – grasped one of his long, permanent fangs, and yanked. Orrhaag howled, Pulo winced, and Kiorl brought his hand back out dripping blood. He turned and pressed the ripped out tooth into Pulo’s empty palm.

“See to it that he is reminded of his failure. You,” he snarled at Orrhaag, “need to learn to apply yourself better to the tasks with which you have been trusted.”

Kiorl glanced around at the general state of the alleyway and the litter of bodies with a sigh. Ghianda was going to owe him more than one favour for putting up with such rubbish. Kiorl sighed and began to compose a long conversation to have with Jin-Ha upon his return, hoping to make it utterly transparent to the little fox that he Kiorl, was never going to do this again.

_I’m not cut out for teaching._

_You always had time for Kiaza._ His inner voice reminded him.

Kiorl gazed up a the dark sky above them as they made their way to a good spot in order to head back to the Circle. Kiaza had taken his portal stone when he’d left, and the only reason Kiorl could think of that he hadn’t seen scale nor slither of his old friend in all the time he’d been gone, was that Kiaza was dead.

For a horrible, awful heartbeat, Kiorl wondered if Nassau would even care.

_Come home, dear friend. I miss you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the demons celebrate Eostra, and Shindae brings Kiorl a present from Upstairs.

Kiorl groaned, rolled over, opened one eye and growled.

“You didn’t answer the door.”

Kiorl bared his fangs, ears already turned back into his hair, and fumbled for furs to drag up over his head.

“Why the fuck are you here, Tobias?”

“You’re late,” the chef replied easily, as though staring down the third most powerful demon in Hell was a normal occurrence for a former human recruit. “You promised Jahke we could go out first thing. You know how he is.”

_Gods… why isn’t Jahke waking me? It would be so much better than this._

“Kiorl, could you please think _that_ less loudly?” Tobias’s deep blue eyes narrowed. “And Jahke’s not waking you because that boy has been literally bouncing on his hooves for the past three hours. Not even you could distract him today.”

Kiorl closed his eyes, tried – and failed – not to picture once again how soft and sensuous a morning wake up call with Jahke might have been, then frowned. Tobias had crossed the room to Kiorl’s highly prized and very extensive wardrobe, and had begun sorting through a rail of tunics and chitons, all very different from his own extremely modest attire. He selected a single-shouldered garment in pleated linen, edged at mid thigh with a broad stripe of inky black, and smiled when he stroked the fabric.

“You like this one.”

‘ _Ki, come play with me!’ Small, cool hands tugged at his belted chiton and at his wrist, dragging him away from his practice kata and across the hot sands. ‘Ki! Come on.’_

_Kiaza happy, smiling, long fangs catching on the soft green of his lower lip, impossible to resist. Kiorl held his hand and let himself be tugged along._

‘ _Knuckle bones? And what’s my prize if I win?’_

_Kiaza flashed him a dazzling smile._

‘ _I’ll sit in your lap.’_

_It was a perfect offer._

Kiorl grunted, rolled over and hauled himself upright, shaking his entire body from muzzle to tail tip in order to settle his fur. Tobias brought over a brush as well as the chiton and half turned away.

“Still so modest.” Kiorl quipped, but Tobias didn’t answer him.

Kiorl had been present for enough conversations with both Zai and Nassau to know that Tobias’s empathic gifts were very strong and hard to completely control. He knew that the boy would have been able to see the memory in his head, and had probably felt an echo of it through the clothes themselves: after all, how else would he have known why that garment made Kiorl happy? But for all the unwarranted intrusion of his talent, Tobias had not once asked him about the memories which featured Kiaza he’d seen in Kiorl’s head, and the panther was more grateful for that than he was able to express.

Dressed, he brushed down the pleated front of the chiton and began to fix a set of narrow braids into the right side of his hair, threading all the way along his scalp to the base of his ear. Tobias tapped his booted foot impatiently.

“I still don’t understand why Jahke isn’t waking me, if he wants me up so badly.” Kiorl commented with a flick of his tail.

“Kiorl...” Tobias rolled his eyes. Once upon a time, Kiorl would have snarled at him for his lack of respect. “What’s the one thing Jahke loves more than sex?”

Kiorl frowned, and Tobias chuckled as realisation dawned in his electric blue eyes.

“Oh Lord Ifrit...”

“Ha, knew you’d forget what day it was. Shindae owes me.”

*

“Kiorl!” Jahke was indeed bouncing on his narrow cloves hooves, skipping up and down the short expanse of flat ground in front of Zinkara Rumah, excitement bubbling from him in waves. “It’s Eostra! Let’s go!”

As the pale faun tugged at his wrist, Shindae and Sitka shared a look of mirth and adoration. Kiorl glared at them both, shook Jahke off and drew himself up to his full height.

“I suppose I don’t need to remind any of you not to get into any fights?” He glanced pointedly at Zai, but the ash-furred demon merely shrugged, hands full with stacks of carved wooden bowls from Tobias’ kitchen. “Alright then, let’s go.”

Zai shared out the bowls of tribute as they walked, and Kiorl flicked his claws tips through several silvery minnows, a fat mouse, a tiny bird with jewel toned feathers, and a collection of many-legged insects with dark carapaces. Their shells were cracked open to reveal squishy yellow innards, rich with meat.

The collected demons of Zinkara Rumah let Jahke and Inai choose their route through the Inner Circle, trusting the naga’s intuition and Jahke’s abundant excitement for the festivities of the day. The sky was clear, the campfires bright, the distant mountains high and silent, the air fresh and crisp with the tang of bitumen, and Kiorl allowed himself to relax as he walked, keeping an ear attuned to the minor demons of his house.

_Happy Eostra Ki._

_Morning Nas._ Kiorl smiled, knowing that though Nassau couldn’t see him, he’d feel the gesture anyway. _Are you joining us today?_

_Sorry my friend. I will be paying tribute shortly in the Garden. Just me and Ba’al in the orchard._

_You want company?_ The panther offered. Tradition – and the desire not to see his charges get into any spats with neighbouring houses – dictated that he should stay with his housemates, but nothing was stronger than the draw of time with Nassau.

_Thank you, but no. Go enjoy. The boys like having you with them._

Kiorl glanced over the loose group of demons. Zai was standing with his arm around Tobias, fingers no doubt skimming over freshly healed wounds beneath his clothes, chatting with Shindae and a pair of demons from a house near the North Gate. Jahke was hunched down, Inai with him, both of them transfixed in conversation with one of Sathriel’s serpents, offering tokens from their bowls. Jin-Ha was speaking with a crow, relaying directions to Sitka. Shindae was watching him, his hot eyes alight with mirth.

“Something funny Shindae?” Kiorl asked him as he dropped the thread of his silent conversation with Nassau, moving forward to urge the group on.

“Not especially.”

Kiorl narrowed his eyes, ears flicking back into his hair momentarily.

“I forget how attractive you are when you smile, that’s all. It’s nice to see.”

The panther arched a dark eyebrow at him, but was saved from replying by Jahke’s excited yelp.

“Our boy’s found a good nest then.” Shindae grinned, and sloped off to join the others.

Summas might have been the most debauched, but it was no secret – from Zai, Tobias, and Nassau at least – that Kiorl’s favourite festival of the year was Eostra. Going out to pay homage to the servants of their regents had always been Kiaza’s favourite, and there had been special joy in watching the green-scaled boy with a newly hatched serpent cupped in his palms, hissing to it in soothing tones whilst it’s parent looked on with possessive pride. Bringing tribute to the snakes and crows of the Inner Circle as they readied to hatch their young was as an immutable part of Kiorl’s upbringing as learning his talents and physical powers opposite Nassau on the training sands.

Now Jahke skipped excitedly, practically twirling in his adorable enthusiasm, and lead the residents of Zinkara Rumah off the main path to a quiet seating area between great basalt menhirs where Inai quickly coiled himself into a compact arrangement of curls, and everyone gathered around with their bowls to observe the nest.

The hooded, black and silver barred snake raised itself up to challenge them, and the collected demons moved swiftly to placate it with their offerings. The serpent took one of Kiorl’s minnows delicately from his fingers, and body-slithered a beckoning to the rest of his clan. All the snakes of the family were dark and gleamed with a metallic shimmer as they slithered out from cracks and in between boulders, and each took an offering of tribute from one or other of them before the nest of eggs – tucked into a safe crevice of hot sand – was finally revealed to them. The eggs were pale and glossy, and completely unbroken.

“Oooh, we’re the first.” Jahke cooed happily. Beside him, Inai sighed with a contented hiss, settling his thick body into a protective loop around the formation of stones which held the nest.

Being first to discover a nest, and by the look of the gathered serpent family, a nest close to hatching, was a point of pride among the demons of the Inner Circle, as well as a source of joy, and Kiorl’s housemates made themselves comfortable to wait.

The first hatching was announced by Inai’s over-eager hiss of excitement, the noise several octaves deeper than the one Kiaza used to make, but just as adorable in his enthusiasm. Kiorl might’ve preferred to be there for some of the crows – they were Nassau’s servants after all – but he couldn’t deny Inai the chance to bond with the very newest of his kin. He left his favoured position leaning against the warm stone of the menhir and came close as a tiny bronze and grey snake no thicker than his finger flicked it’s tongue tentatively at Inai’s outstretched fingers. The naga couldn’t blush, he wasn’t warm enough, but Jahke’s downright sappy expression was enough to make Kiorl roll his eyes. They were the resident’s of the most favoured house of the hill, but they still acted like younglings.

“You love it really.” Shindae bumped his shoulder with a bright, soft smile. “Look how happy they are.”

Kiorl watched a second baby snake as it slithered carefully into Jahke’s soft palm, red tongue tasting the air even as it was lifted to be shown – honoured and respected – to the others by the beaming faun.

“Well… yeah.” Kiorl knew the twitch of his tail gave away his pleasure at the sight of all his charges happy together in the midst of Eostra. He glanced back at Shindae and echoed the lava demon’s smile. “But don’t tell anyone.”

They stayed until all the eggs had hatched, each tiny new serpent petted and exalted, and the remainder of their tribute fed to the increased snake family. Tobias and Zai gathered the largest fragments of shell, halves and wholes with only small pieces missing from them, and each of the demons carried one back with them as they journeyed to the house once more. Kiorl’s was the most complete, of course.

As he placed it within the smallest alcove in his room, watching the light filter through the fragile membrane, Kiorl remembered that he could not go across the hall and tell Kiaza to come and look, just as he had not been able to do for more than a hundred Eostra. He did not let the knowledge shake him, because he was the third most powerful demon in Hell, and such a thing did not affect him.

It didn’t.

*

Kiorl flicked his eyes up over the document again, glanced at the demon who had brought it and who was still standing bowed, all four arms held stiffly at his sides, shivering with the effort of showing obeisance for so long, and sighed as he signed it.

“Yes. I suppose so. Take this to Requisitions and see the Artificer about getting your stone. Don’t lose the fucking thing: I’m not replacing it.”

“Oh thank you my lord! I promise I shall not disappoint you!”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep.” Kiorl frowned at the young recruiter. “Pulo, isn’t it?”

“Yes, master Kiorl.”

“You’ve done well if Jin-Ha thinks you’re ready to strike out on your own. How long has it been?”

“Three years, master Kiorl.” Pulo smiled readily, fingers quivering as he took the signed docket back. 

Kiorl could easily imagine the kid was excited to get his own portal stone, a sign he was truly grown and independent, and able to venture Upstairs alone to collect souls. Kiorl swept his gaze across the broad, bare chest, and the thick canvas trousers which did not appear to have pockets. The kid would need a reliquary. 

The panther was too important to have anything as ordinary as a desk within the Hunt office, but he left the marble writing surface at which he had been standing, gestured for the four-armed demon to follow him, and crossed the room to a set of narrow shelves with a mirrored back. All manner of small objects glinted and glistened in the low light of the alcoves, and Kiorl allowed his claws to trail across the curved surfaces of several little crystal vials before selecting one with a fat round body and a narrow, short spout. He held it out to the young demon by the cord around the neck.

“Good luck.”

“Thank you!” Pulo took the offering eagerly – too eagerly in Kiorl’s opinion – and the panther finally placed him as a creature he’d brought back from the Pit himself. He’d grown into his body and his confidence for sure.

“Didn’t you have a friend when you came to the Inner Circle?”

“Yes sir. He… didn’t make it.”

_This is usually the point in conversation where you say ‘I’m sorry’._ Kiorl couldn’t be sure if his inner voice was openly goading him, or if Nassau had slunk imperceptibly into his mind, because the voice Tobias insisted on calling his conscience was sounding more and more like his old friend every day.

_But I ain’t sorry._ Kiorl realised the young demon was still watching him with a hopeful and inquisitive expression.

_You reckon he’s any good with those four hands?_

_Does it matter if he can’t carry a conversation?_

_Ouch. When was the last time you wanted witty repartee with your casual sex?_

“Was there something else?” Kiorl snapped, ears flicking back over his hair. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Get out.”

Pulo blanched, bowed, and retreated from his presence. 

*

Kiorl rolled the half full reliquary between his fingers, smiled to himself, and drained the rest of the soul within before Tobias decided to come downstairs and admonish him for bringing his work back to the house. Soul eating was a rare delight, and it had been no more than a happy accident when Kiorl – fresh from a successful trip Upstairs – had run into another Hunter and the demon had used his power of judgement to determine that the soul Kiorl had collected was suitable for direct consumption. He’d stopped Kiorl from depositing his reliquary at the office, and the panther had thanked him with genuine happiness, and brought his prize home to consume at leisure.

Ensconced upon his favourite chair, he watched the flames dance in the great hearth of the den whilst Jahke picked distractedly at the strings of the latest instrument his mate had brought home. Inai lay by the fire, his thick coils half unspooled, resting on his elbows as he roasted a large speckled egg in the ashes.

_Only good use for fucking salamanders. At least there’s a world somewhere where they didn’t turn into giant fire breathing flying monsters._

Kiorl set his reliquary down, and was just considering the idea of raiding Jahke’s downstairs bookcase when the pale faun shivered and sat up.

“Sitka’s home!”

“How can you tell?” the panther arched a dark brow at his housemate.

“Don’t know.” Jahke rubbed the tips of his fingers over his bare chest, right above his heart, and the smile which curved his lips was a soft and private thing.

_He would never look at you like that._

Kiorl scowled at himself.

“I just do. I wonder if he and Shindae brought anything fun back from Upstairs?”

“They’d bring you anything you asked for,” Inai replied, rolling over to grin toothily at the faun. “It’s become a bit of a game between the portal guards guessing what will come through with them next. Between your books, and Tobias’ ingredients, it makes for good speculation.”

“And are you winning any of your bets, Inai?”

Inai’s forked tongue flickered as he smirked.

“It would be wrong of me to use my inside information to take advantage of my colleagues.”

“You practically managed all that with a straight face, Inai.” Kiorl grinned at the big naga. “But I still wouldn’t try lying around Zai or Tobias anytime soon.” He was interrupted by the familiar noise of hooves and boots on the stone threshold. “Ah, the errant scavengers return!” 

Jahke bounced onto his narrow hooves and practically ran to the foyer, but stepped back when he reached the arched doorway, glancing quickly between whatever he could see and where Kiorl sat in his favourite chair. It was Shindae who entered first with a warm, bright smile for the faun, and a broadly smug grin for Kiorl.

“What have you been up to Shindae?”

“We brought you a present.” The lava demon’s skin cracked and glowed with pride. “I ain’t never letting anyone say I don’t have the best nose in the Circle after this.” He gestured to the doorway. “Bring ‘em in Sitka.”

Everyone’s attention was tuned to the arch where Sitka entered, but he was not alone. In one hand, carelessly looped around a dark finger, were a pair of knotted leather thongs, and being lead on them by the necks were a perfectly matched pair of mortals. They were nude, had brown skin, pointed ears, white blond hair, and the fully blank expressions of those who had been heavily compulsed. 

“My, my… what have the two of you been up to?”

“For the record, this is all Shindae’s idea.” Sitka proffered the hand which held the leads. “Personally I think you can find your own playthings.”

“Never turn down beauty, Sitka.” Kiorl reprimanded him without taking his eyes from his presents. “I would have thought you’d learnt that by now.”

Jahke resumed his position upon the chaise as Sitka took from his Bag of Holding a colourful vial. He poured the contents down the throats of the mortals, pressed the leads more firmly into Kiorl’s hand, and went to his mate. The two boys stood before Kiorl, steady but weaving faintly, their matched brown gazes glassy and unfocused. Kiorl narrowed his eyes and tugged at one of the leashes. The boy attached to it staggered, eyes sliding to him.

“Come.”

Kiorl dragged his teeth across his fangs as the boy paced toward him, then hooked his finger into the collar and yanked the puppet down to kiss him. Sitka’s compulsion had made him pliant and willing, and the potion he’d drunk clearly amplified the effect now that the horned demon had moved away. Kiorl tasted blood and leant back, still holding the boy’s neck in one hand and grinned broadly at the very visible effect his latent seduction had produced.

“Delicious.” Kiorl licked the blood from his lip, flicked his eyes downward and purred with self satisfaction as the boy dropped to his knees, fine motor skills battling through the double blanket of compulsion and seduction as he unbuckled Kiorl’s tabard and pushed the fabric aside to take the tumescent girth of his cock in one hand. “Ahh...”

“Better?” Shindae asked, half gloating as he moved to the fireplace to continue observing. He reclined against a thick loop of Inai’s scaled body, and the naga shot him a predatory smile all his own; it was no secret the snake was more than fond of those who had their own inner fires to stoke.

Kiorl ignored him, tugged forward the other mortal, and pushed him down to join his lust-drunk twin. Together their fingers worked at his crotch, stroking and fondling his heavy length. Kiorl twitched his tail, the tip snapping back and forth as soft lips closed over the head of his erection. Both puppets lapped at him with delightful eagerness, hands clasping at his thighs as they shared, exchanging little half kisses and touches of tongue. The panther purred aloud, relaxing back into his seat, all but the hand which held the leashes of his two pets at complete ease, eyes never straying from the erotic sight of their spit-slicked lips against his flesh.

“Mmmm… how’s the view?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Shindae responded, his voice gravely and hot. “I give the best presents.”

“That you do.” Kiorl smiled at the scavenger – delightfully reposed with the naga, both of them fully roused, applying light, appreciative touches to each other as they watched – then let his gaze track over the brown-skinned puppets in his lap. Once upon a time, another slender, beautiful mortal had similarly pleasured him in this chair, and the memory gave Kiorl an idea.

“Oh... Jahke?”

“Yes?” The faun straddled his mate’s lap, gripping tight to Sitka’s horn over his shoulder even as the demon kissed and bit his neck, both of them watching the tableau with intense eyes.

“I assume you have oils secreted away somewhere around here?”

“At least three kinds,” Jahke answered without pause, reaching with his free hand in-between two cushions of the chaise, coming back out with a slim clear bottle. He twisted to kiss his lover soundly, then left his perch on Sitka’s thighs and stepped boldly up between the two suckling pets to give Kiorl a kiss which had his vision blurring at the edges. “Here.”

“You do it, pretty boy. You’ve such nimble fingers.”

Jahke blushed, the rose colour staining his milk-white skin, and stepped back with a delighted shiver. He slicked one hand, and the second of the puppets whimpered as fingertips teased over his upturned rump. Jahke spared no motion of his fingers as he slid them into the boy’s hole, eliciting gasps and groans which Kiorl felt against his skin as the marionette tried valiantly to keep up with the task he’d been presented with. Jahke produced a pleased gasp of his own as he used his other hand to reach between the boy’s legs for his ignored erection, the muscle hot and hard in his hand. The mortal made a half aborted grunt of longing, forehead resting on Kiorl’s abdomen.

The panther hauled the boy up by his collar, pushed the other one away with a careless paw, turned the puppet, spread him open with both thumbs, and brought him down into his lap with a single sharp thrust. He cried out prettily as he was penetrated, whimpering as Kiorl’s claws dug into his hips, and the panther snarled. Jahke lowered himself to his knees, quick hands on the puppet’s legs, spreading his thighs wide until he was straddling Kiorl’s lap completely, and the panther used his free hand to pet Jahke’s soft blond curls in silent permission as he continued to fuck his prize. 

“Lucky present,” Sitka grunted as he watched his mate swallow the boy’s cock in a single motion. “He gives the best blowjobs in the ‘verse.”

Jahke preened with the compliment, despite having his mouth full, then gave as muffled yelp as the boy who had been without purpose since Kiorl had discarded him pressed himself against his skin. His body was hot with Kiorl’s seduction and whatever potion Sitka had given him, erection flushed an angry red with need, lips still damply parted. The noise Jahke made as the drugged boy lapped at his tight entrance with his tongue was obscene, and Kiorl purred, using the reach of his tail to encourage the motion and the accompanied moans. He thrust into the boy whose body clamped and tightened around his cock as Jahke sucked him expertly into his throat, and the pet screamed as Kiorl rent his shoulder open with careless claws. 

Sitka had left the chaise at some point previously, retrieved the bottle of lubricant, and splashed it generously over his mate’s tender entrance as the other boy leant back. Compelled or drugged, there was no magic strong enough to allow the pretty mortal to resist the draw of Jahke’s perfect arse, and Jahke let out a muffled yelp of delighted surprise as he was reamed. Kiorl drew distracted patterns in the blood from his present’s wound, grinding lazily into the deep heat of his body, and nodded welcomely to Sitka as he noticed the new direction of the horned demon’s attention.

“Be my guest.”

Sitka drank deeply of the boy, and lent back with his usually shining onyx eyes gone dull with the sensation of it. He exhaled with a groan.

“They taste rather good. You should try it.”

Kiorl had no qualms about taking the advice of the younger demon, not when his tastes in blood had always proved so accurate before, and drank happily. The pretty marionette was very flavoursome, and he squealed in pain.

“I think we should put those mouths back to better use. Jahke? Time to be more proactive. Up you get.”

The new demon pulled his blush pink lips from the puppet immediately, and the boy in Kiorl’s lap squirmed unhappily with the loss of sensation. Sitka laughed, catching on quickly, and took both leashes, hauling one boy off Kiorl’s cock, the other from the tight warmth of Jahke’s body, and pushed them both back to their knees between Kiorl’s legs before passing back their leads. Heady lust left no room for hesitation, and both began to lap greedily at Kiorl’s length. Sitka took the time to kiss his lover soundly, slipping two fingers into Jahke’s fucked-open arsehole, making the pale faun vibrate with sensation in his embrace.

“Now, now Sitka. He’s supposed to be – Nnnghh!” Kiorl dug his claws into the arm rests of his chair until the fabric threatened to rip. “-Helping me with my present.”

Sitka let his mate go with a proud smile, and Jahke stepped forwards. It was obvious from the two upturned rears before him what Kiorl wanted him to do, and the faun practically glowed with happiness. Kiorl allowed himself to feel smug that his suggestion had been taken so well: Jahke rarely got the chance to fuck someone, but Kiorl knew he would do just as well with this as he did with any other task he set his mind to. He started with the one Kiorl had been fucking, sliding home in one smooth thrust whilst Sitka used the last of the lube to ready the other with obvious delight. Kiorl played his tongue over his fangs, warmed by the sight of so many pretty bodies sucking and fucking for his pleasure.

Jahke passed from one boy to the other like a little hooved fucking machine, teeth set in his pink lower lip, positively captivated with his job. The two gifts mewled and whimpered as they were alternately plundered and ignored.

Kiorl buried his cock deep in the throat of one boy – which didn’t really matter – and gripped his hair tight enough to draw pinpricks of blood as he came into the hot mouth. Jahke had good stamina, but his stimulation did not take much longer, and he fell back into Sitka from one of the boys, dark arms tight around his narrow chest as he splattered himself with his own cum.

From his position by the fire, wrapped happily in the coils of the naga and stroking one of Inai’s interestingly shaped erections with an unnaturally warm hand, Shindae grinned pompously.

“Don’t say I never bring you guys anything...”

Kiorl let out a satisfied growl, and inclined his head to the lava demon. Shindae had certainly earned himself a rise in Kiorl’s personal standings. He gathered up both leashes as he stood, tugging his presents to their feet. Both glassy-eyed boys still sported quivering and rather painful looking erections and stood gazing at him, slack jawed.

“You did very well Shindae. I’ll arrange for you to have a tenday off.” The panther grinned lazily. “I think I might go finish enjoying my present now. Tell Tobias I won’t be down for dinner.”

*

He fucked each of the boys in turn until they’d come messily with his cock buried inside them, then had them ride him until he reached completion twice more. The furs of his bed had been a mess of blood, cum, sweat, and tears, and Kiorl had pushed the spent pair from the great stone dish, uncaring for their injuries or the state he’d left them in. The marionette twins were no longer a good distraction, and on the way the bathroom Kiorl had beckoned to Inai and asked the big naga to take them away and dispose of them however he saw fit. Neither mortal had a useable mind left after the potion they’d been fed, and their souls were worth less than the pleasure Inai would get for devouring them.

Tired, sated, his belly full of the warm sensation of bone deep satisfaction, Kiorl showered, smoothed his damp hair back with one palm, and grinned at his reflection in the mirror.

_And exactly what did all of that accomplish?_

_It was a very good distraction._ Kiorl sighed, having long ago given up the circular argument about whether reasoning with himself was a viable form of conversation. _Shindae really does have a good nose for these things. It was fun._

He abandoned the bathroom and returned to his rooms, to find that the house had discarded all of the soiled furs from his bed, leaving a stack of clean ones – along with several blankets – for him to arrange to his liking. He did so, spreading contrasting pelts across the stone dish before slumping back into the natural warmth.

It had been fun, and Kiorl felt a soft pang of regret that he hadn’t kept one of the puppets to keep him company as the alcoves began to dim.

_Company?_ His inner voice mocked.  _What is the point of these distractions if you’re still falling asleep alone._

_Fuck off._

Kiorl scowled and rolled onto his front, tail lashing the air in directionless aggravation. Shindae was sleeping alone, he always did, just like Kiorl. Inai would be sleeping alone too, unless the snake had decided to eat one of Kiorl’s presents now and save one for later. It wasn’t as though he was the only one in Zinkara Rumah sleeping alone.

_I have slept alone for almost as long as I can remember._

But the sight of Jahke and Sitka as he had left the den with his presents caught in his mind, because despite having enjoyed themselves with him, they had been curled about each other on the chaise, kissing softly, with eyes only for each other.

_Only Jahke and Sitka could be that sickeningly in love._

Kiorl pillowed himself on his folded arms, clicking his tongue to plunge the room into total darkness.

Once upon a time, it would be unthinkable that Zai wouldn’t have joined them, regardless of how impromptu an orgy had been. But Zai hadn’t even graced the doorway with a jealous expression.

_He has something better,_ Kiorl’s inner voice snarked.

_You mean he’s whipped. Tobias never lets him have any fun._

_He seems awfully happy about it though._

The panther scowled.

_Zai was always weird._ He huffed softly in the dark.  _I’m fine, it’s not like I need a companion. A warm body is enough._ Again he mourned the loss of his puppets; their suckling mouths had been so soft. It would have been a good way to fall asleep.  _I’m fine._

_Yeah._ The voice in his head mocked him openly. _You’re fine. Keep telling yourself that._

Kiorl turned and glared, unseeing, at the ceiling. He would never admit it, not even to Nassau, but he lay there for a long time as the campfires burnt brightly in the night sky above, and prayed to gods he usually hoped would never notice him for sleep to come.

“I’m fine,” he whispered into the dark, not believing himself.

_Sure you are._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End, at least for now.
> 
> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan) as we prepare for book four.
> 
> This author responds to comments.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


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